


Say Yes

by thedeadflag



Category: Glee
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Las Vegas Wedding, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the day after Brittany’s Valentine’s Day wedding, and Rachel’s stunned to wake up in Santana’s hotel room with the woman curled up with her, and rings on their fingers. Does Santana know more than she’s letting on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Yes

The moment Rachel slipped toward consciousness, the plethora of sensations had her wishing her body had decided to remain asleep longer. It didn't take more than a few seconds of lying in bed with her eyes shut to realize she seriously wasn't ready to face the hangover she knew would make at least half of her day miserable. She considered making a pledge to never drink again, but she knew that was unlikely, and just decided to limit their severity. Hopefully. Ideally.

A slight shift of weight atop her body made sense of the odd heaviness and warmth she'd woken up to, and Rachel nearly groaned at the idea of having had a one night stand. Certainly, she'd gotten lonely on occasion and taken home the odd co-worker or random as a means to an end, but she'd put a stop to that nearly a year ago. Revisiting that old habit in Las Vegas, while on vacation to attend a wedding, made it almost unbearably cliché.

Still, it was reality, and the lithe arms wrapped around her waist made the previous night one of the few lady-exclusive nights she'd had. Not that she tended to heavily prefer men, but Rachel had quickly learned that being intimate with women usually reminded her of a specific woman mid-way through the festivities, and that often left both parties unsatisfied in the end due to her reality never approaching the heights of her fantasy.

Rachel peeked an eye open, and even in the dim unlit hotel room, shades fully drawn, she could see a head of dark hair resting on her chest, and a tanned shoulder peeking out from under the covers.

"Great...seems I've moved up to doppelgangers now. Not creepy at all, Rachel. Not one bit." She quietly chided herself, frustrated that she'd let her desires get to her last night, at least enough to have roped in some look-alike of her best friend. Though, whoever the woman was, Rachel could admit by the soreness of her whole body that they must have had quite a nice night together.

Feeling a need to find something to stop the throbbing of her skull, and maybe make her mouth not feel like the desert it currently was, Rachel gently shifted the woman from on top of her to her side instead, only to let out a loud, sharp gasp when the woman's face came into view.

Rachel's hand shot to her mouth in both shock, and to silence herself in case her body decided to make more surprised noises over the identity of her bedmate, but an unfamiliar weight and a cool metallic texture against her lips drew yet another gasp her hand could hardly stifle.

Suddenly the world was spinning out from beneath her, and had she not clearly been on a bed, being held down by Santana of all people, and nursing a hangover, Rachel would have thought she was drunk by how unsteady she felt at the mere understanding that she'd slept with Santana Lopez, her best friend, and was wearing unfamiliar jewelry on her ring finger. Well, perhaps 'mere' was a poor word, given the circumstances.

Rachel allowed herself a glimpse at the pair of rings as Santana stirred beside her, only having time to make note of the odd cut of the engagement ring's diamond before a friendly face popped into view. She'd just have to deal with the ring business later, because keeping Santana from freaking out on her and keeping their friendship intact was just far more important, and even with a hangover and feeling frantic as ever, she was still capable of prioritizing.

Rachel dropped her hand to the mattress and watched the sleepy woman yawn before resting her head on Rachel's shoulder, dark eyelashes fluttering open to reveal those eyes she so often got lost in. However, where Rachel expected an immediate wariness from Santana, or for those eyes to turn sharp upon realizing who the woman had woken up with, she was instead met with a content little hum as those warm eyes scanned her face.

"Mornin'." Santana murmured sleepily with a smile, yawning once more as Rachel felt her snuggle closer against her side. No accusations, no questioning what the hell had happened, no shock or surprise; sure, Santana tended to have a memory for the ages, able to drink to excess seemingly without ever truly blacking out and losing memory. It was an enviable quality, and it only had Rachel wondering more intensely about what the hell had gone on the previous night.

Certainly, whatever it was, it wasn't troubling Santana, although the woman did tend to forget about the world around her when in her post-sex haze, something she'd learned during their time at the loft together. And judging by how sore her body was, Rachel was unfortunately pretty dang sure they'd had sex. Not that having sex with Santana wasn't fortunate, but not remembering it was rather depressing. Anyway, there was still a chance Santana would freak out, but Rachel could take some level of comfort in knowing Santana had at least approved of last night on some level.

But therein lies the rub. There were a lot of possibilities as to what happened last night, but none could realistically make what she was witnessing true. As per usual, she'd found herself entirely disoriented by Santana, and that meant something was amiss. Something had to make sense of them sleeping together, Rachel wearing a wedding ring, and Santana being entirely content, and jumping to conclusion that seeing was believing would only get her in trouble and break her heart.

No, Rachel despaired; there was a much better chance of them having gotten blitzed on alcohol, Rachel having gotten frisky, and in their drunken excitement decided to get married for the hell of it. Over the years she'd heard a tremendous amount of stories about Les Vegas hook-ups ending in brief spur-of-the-moment marriages, so it wasn't exactly an unheard of possibility. And that possibility, which was looking the most realistic at the moment, might just hurt the most.

Besides, what honorable salesperson would sell expensive jewelry to drunken women, anyway? Rachel's eyes darted to her side at the thought, lifting the covers slightly to reveal Santana's hands knit along her left side, an enormous ring adorning the woman's left hand. This time, she was able to stifle her gasp, even if her eyes remained fixated on the sheer size of it. Sure, she could afford it, but again, how the hell could anyone justify having sold to them in their state? Jewelry with little to no reasonable resale value, at that!

"Hey, you're lettin' all the warmth out." Santana mumbled grumpily, tugging the covers back over their bodies and forcing Rachel's gaze away from the now concealed ring. " 'S early still, querida. Let's jus' catch some more Zs, 'kay?"

Now, Rachel wasn't entirely fluent in Spanish, but she was familiar enough with the language to understand the term of endearment offered her way, and it had her body tensing up as tightly wound as it had ever been. Nothing made any sense.

Rachel needed life to start making sense, because she was fifteen seconds from a meltdown, and all signs pointed to possibly losing her best friend over a mutual hook-up that wasn't nearly enough for her, and was a mockery of her dreams, but which probably also would change their friendship irreparably. She'd seen the distance Santana and Quinn endured after their brief hook-up, and wasn't sure she could handle a two-year stretch without her best friend by her side.

So she needed everything to make sense again, she needed to hear they were okay, and she needed to get somewhere safe to decompress as soon as possible.

* * *

When Rachel's whole body went as tense and rigid as a brick, Santana couldn't help but frown a little, wondering what the heck was going on. The woman was gasping, and being all silent, and now going stiff as a board over a little affection, and it was just really weird. Rachel always loved being snuggled with and complimented, the diva was like a sponge for that stuff.

Combine all that with an annoying headache, and Santana knew she probably wouldn't be getting any more sleep that morning. The least she could do, then, was figure out what was wrong and how to fix it.

Santana closed her eyes and gently ran her hand up and down Rachel's side, reveling once more in the fact that yes, she'd gotten herself a big ol' slice of Berry pie last night. Hell, she got the whole thing, and even if something WAS wrong, nothing would spoil her happy mood.

"Hey, Rach, is your head poundin' too? Or is it just me?" She asked, deciding to see if maybe Rachel had a hangover and wasn't handling it well. She knew from experience they tended to turn the diva into a grumpy, sad, combative person at times, and the last thing she wanted was for the woman to feel that way.

"I...um...it's not just you." Rachel stammered out, and while it didn't give Santana any major clues as to what was up with her best friend, it did give her something to do.

So with more effort than she was used to exerting so early in the morning with a hangover, Santana slipped out of bed and padded over to her luggage, pulling out the pack of ingredients for her hangover solution. Hell, she knew she needed some, since just standing up and walking a few steps had made her head feel exponentially worse, and it would not fly for Rachel to have to deal with that this morning of all mornings.

As swiftly as she could manage, she emptied a bit of water out of both bottles she'd brought with her into the bathroom sink; usually she'd down both, but she had someone else to look after now, and that was more important than being symptom free by one or two in the afternoon. Once that was done, she dropped some Alka-Seltzer into both, and let it dissolve as she grabbed four Advil, and then capped both bottles.

"So this should help make things a little better. Advil for your head, the water for everything else." Santana noted as she re-entered the room and handed Rachel her half of the hangover aid, before guzzling down half of her own bottle and pills. Technically, there was no magic cure for hangovers, but this was about as useful a one as she'd come across, and she wanted it to get to work as soon as possible.

Once her bottle was back on the side table, she lifted the covers and shifted back over against Rachel's side, her arms wrapping around the diva's waist when Rachel went to move a little. Again, Berry went all tense, and Santana just didn't get it, because they were just cuddling. Sure, they were both naked, but whatever, was modesty really necessary after the previous night?

"What's up, Rach? You're bein' all squirrely." She asked quietly, staying away from the term of endearment she'd used before in case Rachel was feeling some jitters about everything.

The uncharacteristic silence from Rachel was a little unnerving; given enough time to process, and the opportunity to ramble, the woman usually offered a short essay about anything that was troubling her. After a minute or so, Santana lifted her head and gazed up at Rachel, who looked far too nervous and panic-stricken for her comfort.

It did seem, though, that making eye contact spurred the diva into action, the woman lifting her right hand from the covers. "I...I don't know what to say. I just didn't expect this." Rachel spoke, words hesitant and breaking off at the edges from an inexplicable fear that Santana didn't know how to douse any more than she knew how to protect herself from it.

Santana scanned the diva's face for any sign that this was just her feeling flustered, or scared of having rushed in, but all that was there were fear and confusion. And like that, her heart dropped, and if not for the blood rushing to her face in humiliation, she probably would have heard it shatter just as much as she'd felt it.

"What." It was all she could choke out, trying to mask her pain as the thickness of lingering sleepiness, just trying to hold herself together and survive however long this bit of conflict would take, because Rachel didn't remember. It was clear as day in the woman's eyes that last night had escaped her, and Berry had woken up in bed with her and was scared, and that reality made breathing that much harder.

Rachel didn't seem to notice anything was amiss, just thrusting her ring finger forward, as if that should have been enough to convince her that something WRONG happened. "I didn't expect...I didn't expect this. Wedding rings, Santana!"

Santana couldn't help but wince from hurt at the statement, knowing it'd originally just been one, but a certain someone had insisted on more. She could have groaned at Rachel seeing through her panicked haze enough to notice her expression for once.

"Wait...do you remember last night? Do you know what happened to us?!" Rachel asked, words escaping her like bullets out of a full-auto machine gun, and Santana just didn't have a bullet-proof vest to protect herself from the idea that Rachel thought something had happened TO them, instead of them doing something together.

It was too much to handle, and the diva was too worked up to think straight, so Santana just decided to avoid the situation altogether and deal with it later, when she had the heart to.

"No, I don't. And I've got a headache, okay? So...so I know you're feeling weird, and we probably had a night for the ages, but we're adults. We're too old for morning after regrettathon freak-outs. You can either put up with my drowsy ass wanting more sleep, or you can leave." Santana clamped her mouth shut after her last word, knowing she just didn't have the heart or energy to say anything else for a while. She'd been absolutely wrong; her good mood was obliterated, and there was nothing left of it to gather together and repair.

She rolled over onto her other side, keeping her back to Rachel, and pulled the covers over her completely, wishing Rachel would wrap those lithe arms around her like she had the night before. Wishing that Rachel wasn't upset at being married to her, just at not being able to remember. Wishing Rachel would snap out of it and kiss her shoulder, and tell her it'd all be okay.

But it wouldn't. Not anymore, and she allowed herself to cry like the fool she was for believing it ever could be. Santana waited silently for Rachel to slip out of bed, get dressed, and sneak out of the room before bringing her engagement ring to her mouth, allowing herself one last trip down memory lane before shutting those memories away forever.

But Rachel's words kept echoing in her head, one pair surfacing more and more as Santana fought against them, tears streaming down her cheeks in the bittersweet memory of her best friend pleading those words.

_"Say yes."_

* * *

_Last Night, Valentine's Day_

Santana was pretty sure that one day, in the near future, she'd be living happy and free and wouldn't regularly be faced with all sorts of relationship bullshit from the former glee clubbers that inexplicably haunted her existence. However, she was also sure, as she sat at the bar of her hotel in Las Vegas, forty minutes after her former BFF and her new husband had taken off from the reception to their honeymoon, that the 'near future' wouldn't come to pass in the next few hours.

No, because today, she was in Vegas to celebrate Britt getting married to some Cirque de Soleil dancer she'd known for just over seven weeks, and the odds were that eventually she'd get roped into drama related to it all. Like when Puck got married to Q, and cheated on her, which resulted in a nasty divorce that everyone got pulled into for some unknown damn reason. It was bad enough that Q had been home alone for months while he was overseas doing a stint at some shitty base or whatever; that he managed to cheat on her with another woman halfway across the world, and get caught, was ridiculous even for Puck. Santana had totally taken Q's side, but the blonde had been incredibly difficult to deal with as the divorce proceeded. The amount of times she'd had to convince Quinn she wasn't turning into her mother must have exceeded a good two hundred times.

Then there was when Sam and Mercedes had their first kid, and Sam thought he'd been cheated on because the kid didn't have his dirty blonde hair or his eyes. Santana hadn't been sure why SHE of all people had been the cavalry Mercedes insisted upon calling in, even if she had an inkling it was due to her being of mixed heritage, and sitting Sam down to explain how genetics worked wasn't exactly her idea of a good time. Why the two hadn't gotten a paternity test instead was a mystery to her.

And then, of course, there were all of Kurt and Berry's relationships and flings over the years; living in New York meant having to put up with all of their drama and having to offer both shoulders for them to cry on. Which, really, Kurt should have known better. He was a long way from the drama queen he used to be, and Santana never understood why she was his go-to girl for break-up vent-a-thons, especially considering all the platonic gay friends he had that were less thorny than her, but she'd inexplicably worked her way into that position.

Berry, she understood. Somewhere along the line, they'd not only regained their friendship, they'd improved upon it. And while Rachel was arguably the busiest person in existence, the girl still managed to find time to get her heart broken close to once a year. Which, coincidentally, accounted for a large minority of times she would see the diva in person on an annual basis, but at least Rachel would, like, text her all the time and talk to her weekly on Skype. So it wasn't like Berry was wholeheartedly using her or anything, not at all, not like Kurt had in recent years; no, they were pretty close friends. Okay, best friends. Sure, she might have had a major, long-time festering crush on the brunette for years, but it wasn't like she minded too much, anyway. Rachel had always been one of those look-but-don't-touch women in her life, and Santana was fine dealing with repressing feeling a certain four letter word for Berry, especially if it meant having the spitfire diva in her life.

Still, as a woman nearing thirty, Santana had honestly had enough of spending what seemed like half her free time tending to the gleeks instead of her own life, and as she slammed back her second shot of the evening, she decided that this year would be different. Sure, it was a little late for New Year's resolutions, what with it being another Valentine's Day wedding, but it was the thought that counted, right? Better late than never, and all that crap.

Santana scanned the crowd for the nearest target, needing to sow the seeds of her plan of action as soon as possible. Thankfully, she spotted Rachel moseying on up to grab a drink further down the bar, and if anyone was an ideal candidate for a test run at telling people to get lost with their crazy-life junk, at least for a while, it was her.

So with determination and a bit of a buzz, Santana marched her way across the bar to where Rachel was seated, and plopped herself down on the stool right beside the diva, immediately earning Rachel's attention. Which, you know, would have been really great at expediting the whole process had Berry not immediately engulfed her in a hug.

"Santana! I haven't seen you in...in hours!" Rachel's loud voice and stumbled speech told Santana enough that the diva was a little buzzed. Well, that and the fact that they last saw each other forty-five minutes ago. Berry never quite fully adapted to alcohol, and even though she was far from a lightweight, the woman would usually manage to drink just the right amount to turn some parts of her brain to mush. Still, unless Rachel was ultra-clingy and stuck on singing Bette Midler, it was a good sign that she was more or less sober, which Santana was thankful for. She didn't need to spout off a bunch of shit to Rachel just for the pint-sized brunette to be unable to toss it in her memory banks. She'd had enough of those experiences before, some painful and some just straight up annoying.

"I've been around. But, hey, listen, I need..." Santana started, prompting Rachel to separate from her at least a little, the diva's attention on her for a split second before some startled realization crossed that overdramatic face of hers.

"Oh my gosh, I must sound so insensitive! Of course you'd be taking this particularly hard. I know that you and Brittany haven't been roman...romantically involved for a long time, but her marriage...well, it caught ME by surprise! I remember when she first put up her rel...relationship status on Facebook six weeks ago, that she was DATING him, you know?" Berry rambled at a breakneck pace, looking equal parts remorseful and something that appeared to be full-fledged disbelief. "Not that I'm not happy for Brittany, but...it's a surprise! Even back in high school when Finn proposed, it took...okay, about the same amount of time, but that was really foolish of me back then, and I'm worried for her as much as I'm...as I'm happy for her, you know?"

The dainty hand resting on her thigh, probably as a means to try and emphasize Berry's point, had Santana feeling a little off-kilter. Still, she had a mission, and a little bit of skin on skin, Rachel's hands lightly gripping her upper thigh right beneath the hem of her dress, was not enough to sway Santana Lopez.

"Yeah, it's kinda crazy, I'll admit. But this IS the same girl who unofficially married Sam on less than a day's notice before, so..." Santana began, but once again, Berry's words spilled out and over her own, and she would have flipped had Rachel's hand not started to massage her thigh.

"I remember hearing about that! Honestly, I was appalled! Espe...especially given you two had just broken up, and...and she goes to a random SAM instead of the girl she's loved since forever? I was so mad for you, but secrel...secretly, in silence, because I considered us friends but knew we weren't close. Not...not like we are now." Rachel rambled again, ending her newest rant in a staged whisper and a sly grin that, together with the thigh massage, had Santana wondering exactly what was up with Berry tonight.

Not that it should have mattered, because damn it, she needed to, like, tell people. Santana needed people to know she had to have her own life and not be pulled into their shit all the time. And Rachel was making that really, really difficult. Half of her brain was telling her to just shut up and keep Berry talking, and touching, when it should have been focused on making a stand. Something she needed a deep breath and some praying to shift back to.

Still, making a stand while maybe pushing for more one-on-one time in the future? That seemed like a smart plan. Cutting out all the shit and spending more time with Rachel seemed logical.

"We are closer now, munchkin. Though, with how crazy our lives are, and all the losers calling on us all the time, we don't really see each other a lot." Santana added sadly, figuring it was the best play she could make to let Rachel know she missed her, as well as segue into telling Berry her plan and what she needed.

But when Rachel's hand left her thigh and migrated to her arm, grazing it up and down, Berry fighting this sad little frown all the while, Santana could hardly be blamed for losing her train of thought.

"I would like to see you more, Santana. It IS nice that we occasionally meet up outside of New York and get to be a little...adventurous...but we should do that back home, too." Rachel's words were enticing in the surprising innuendo Berry laced into them, and had Santana floundering as to how to respond. She didn't want to read too much into it, because Rachel DID occasionally phrase things suggestively without any intent to be sensual or whatever.

But it was Vegas, Santana was riding a nice buzz, and Rachel was looking at her in a way the diva honestly hadn't in a long time, and that was really interesting.

Santana shelved her plan of action for a while, figuring this whole thing with Rachel would take precedence for a bit, at least until she figured it all out. "Yeah, we should. Well, we're in Vegas, and the night's still young...why not have ourselves a little adventure of our own?" She asked, cocking her eyebrow at the diva, whose pout immediately transformed into a brilliant smile.

"I think I'd really like that." Rachel mused as she slipped off her stool and stood directly beside Santana, the diva's nearest arm curling around the small of her back and slowly slipping down to rest on her ass.

Santana's eyes bulged in wonder, breathless at Berry's hand just taking up residence there as the diva called the bartender for a tray of shots for the road. For better or worse, Santana was pretty sure the rest of her night would indeed be quite an adventure.

* * *

"And...and that's why I just gotta be me, right? I mean, am I alone, here?" Santana ranted at her, having spent the past five or so minutes going on about how this would be the year she'd avoid getting roped into any crazy drama from former gleeks. Rachel understood the woman's dilemma perfectly, having been pulled in a number of directions by the former club members whenever she managed to find free time in her busy schedule. It seemed as if every year, Kurt, Mister Schue, Puck or Sam were dragging her around the country so she could soothe their woes or help them with something. As an actress with little precious time to herself as it was, it simply wasn't sustainable to keep globetrotting for the sake of others. Santana's plan had some merit, for sure.

"No way, Jose. I def...definitely support this idea of yours." Rachel agreed, as they made their way down the strip aimlessly, for once having no real care in the world. The night was warm, the air was crisp, she was nice and tipsy, and she was in wonderful company. Life was good!

"You know, if this was five years ago, I woulda smacked you for that, Berry. I know you're jus' yankin' my chain, though. And I don't mind...the rest of glee can go get lost in the Mojave, but you...you can keep yankin'." Santana noted, spinning around on the sidewalk, walking backward in order to face Rachel. It was something she was a little envious of the Latina for; Santana could walk in heels with barely any trouble at all, no matter the conditions, whereas her own coordination tended to go by the wayside after a few drinks or while sleepy. Much like her tongue tended to get lazy after a drink or two, slurring her speech up a little more than she'd prefer.

"Well, I'd need to collar you first, 'Tana...nice 'n proper...then I'd get to yank your chain all the time." Rachel slipped out, blushing at her words, but it was what happened whenever she hit the bottle. She'd get a little flirty, and with the risqué images of Santana's most recent photo-shoot in her mind, Rachel supposed she couldn't blame herself.

Santana just laughed, of course, knowing she wasn't serious. Or, well, too serious. Her best friend had been giving her these long, lingering, inquisitive glances over the past however long they'd been together tonight, and while Rachel knew she'd been a little sloppy over the past hour with her affections and words, she was pretty sure Santana wasn't aware of the extent of her feelings quite yet. So even if she had been a little serious, she was quite sure Santana didn't think she was, and that was the important part. No need to ruin a friendship over unreciprocated love. Rachel Barbra Berry was a grown woman, after all.

"You know, I'd say that's totes not true, but I think we both know a batch of sugar cookies, a massage, and that whorish couch of yours was all it took to have me curled up on your lap three years ago." Santana said wistfully, eyes glazing over for a brief moment before shifting to Rachel's own. Honestly, Santana's admission was entirely out of left field. She recalled the event in a vague sense; Santana's music label had dropped her after San had fought to have her own songs on the album. She recalled making cookies, but not much else from the night she had Santana over.

That fact seemed to be evident, as Santana's expression fell the tiniest bit. "Eh, can't expect you to remember all my stories. Nothin' crazy happened, you were jus' a little too drunk to remember, probably. You're...you're not drunk now, are you?"

Rachel wanted to apologize as she shook her head in response to the question, knowing that Santana likely had a number of 'stories' Rachel couldn't recall due to her incessant need to drown herself in liquor so she could have the courage to be alone with the woman. Of course, it wasn't a logical decision, knowing her drunk self would hardly be capable of much, and could even prove embarrassing, but it was something of a crutch of hers. One she felt guilty for falling prey to at the bar when Santana came to talk to her earlier, even if she internally vowed to keep away from it as the night progressed. It'd be good to remember, for once, she felt.

However, as an apology was formulating through her hazy mind, Rachel heard her cell-phone ring-tone. As quickly as she could manage, Rachel dug around in her bag and pulled out the device, spotting an incoming call from her agent. She lifted a finger to Santana apologetically, hoping it wouldn't take long.

"Hello, Morgan?" Rachel answered, confused as to why her agent was calling, given the messages she'd left him. "Is something wrong?"

"The furthest from it. So I got back from a meeting with your label, and they want to fast-track your album to take advantage of your Golden Globe win. We've got the dates booked starting tomorrow evening through the end of the month, a little flex-time after that if necessary, and Lori's been setting up interviews, photo-shoots, party and gala appearances, the works. You'll be touring by the time festival season's starting up, and we'll release your album early summer after the second single hits, and..." Morgan's endless, confusing diatribe was making Rachel's head hurt, because she could have sworn she'd gone on a week's vacation to rest up, considering she'd just finished her run as Elphaba in Wicked!, which had lasted the majority of her past two and a half years, working six days a week. To say she was tired was an understatement.

"Morgan, I thought I told you I'd be out of town, and that if you called me, it had to be an...an emergency. It's nice of you to be proactive, but you can't just ignore my wishes like that..." Rachel started, doing her best to speak clearly, only for her agent to start up again and cut her off. The nerve!

"This is a massive opportunity, Rachel. We're talking a second straight possible seven figure year for you, with loads of endorsements, and you know it'll open more doors for you. Like I said, you're booked in the studio tomorrow at six to talk with the label rep, the producers, and some writers. Now, Richard, you know Rich at Epic, right? He's thinking you do a song featuring Michael Bublé, and since he's been single for a little while, and he'll be in town..." Morgan rambled again, Rachel feeling her face turning red from anger at the thought of yet another showmance being thrust upon her.

She'd endured six of them throughout her nearly decade long career, and while some were thankfully brief, others locked her out of opportunities to pursue people she had been legitimately interested in, and who had been legitimately interested in her. It was a heartbreaking dynamic that she hated, and when Santana rested one of those soft, reassuring hands on her shoulder in concern, Rachel found the strength to battle back.

"NO! No, Morgan, I'm not goin' to pretend to date Michael Bublé to give my album more credibility! Besides, aren't there talks of him getting back t'gether with his wife, anyway? No, if we can have him on as a duet on my album, I'd...I'd love that, but I will NOT date him, and I am NOT coming in tomorrow. Res...reschedule for two days from now at nine in the morning, or somewhere around then." Rachel argued, entirely fed up with being bullied around in show business. She was talented, she had a good reputation now, and while she wasn't an A-lister quite yet, that's the direction she was trending. Her agent could ride her coattails to success, or she could get a new one. It was only through sheer luck and her own networking abilities that she'd gotten the call to do her award-winning song, anyway.

"Rachel, this is an opportunity. You need to calm down and be smart about this. It's your career at stake, and it's just a few months, a few dates, a few photos. He's a nice guy. Look, I have to go, we'll talk tomorrow evening at the studio. I'll text you with the details later." Morgan responded, apparently all too happy to ignore each and every word she'd said to him. A ripple of fury washed over Rachel as she threw her phone and her bag and pulled out her small bottle of raspberry vodka and took a long swig, the burn in her throat chasing away at least some of her anger momentarily.

"Whoa, easy, tiny. If you're gonna take a shot, you have to share. Them's the rules, 'kay?" Santana declared, swiping the vodka from Rachel's hand and taking her own sip. "Now, what in the flying fuck was that all about?"

The buzzing energy from the alcohol wasn't nearly enough to push aside her confusion and anger at the turn of events, and Rachel was just sober enough to know that if they kept walking, she'd probably end up hurting herself in some sort of storm-out. With that in mind, Rachel took a look at her surroundings and smiled at the sight of the fountain from Ocean's Eleven.

"Can we sit down over there? I'm not sure I can walk 'n yell at the same time." Rachel grumbled as she pointed to the rather dramatically large fountain nearby, earning a supportive nod from Santana. Such a wonderful, supportive friend. Rachel was pretty sure Santana liked fountains anyway. Who could hate fountains?

The trek across the street to the wonderful piece of watery art took a little longer than expected, some cars taking issue with the strap of her heel coming loose, and her fixing it in the middle of the street. She didn't want to just leave it be and trip, that would be dangerous. Still, they eventually plopped down by the Bellagio fountain for a bit of a break, letting their sore tootsies relax a little.

"So...what's got your pretty little head all worked up, Berry?" Santana asked, pulling Rachel's head to the side so it could rest on her shoulder. Rachel would have eventually done so anyway, so it was a nice gesture, especially knowing Santana wanted her head there, and that she thought it was pretty. She could be such a sweetheart, sometimes!

Still, Rachel knew she needed to vent about the phone-call before she developed a migraine. "My agent's ignorin' me, and set me up to start working on...on my album tomorrow evenin', and that's niiice, but I can't do tomorrow, because I'm on VACATION, I prom...promised myself, and I'm so TIRED, Santana. Before this weekend, I'd offi...officially worked six days a week for years, SIX! An' I worked those days and my off-day on other things my agent gave me. I jus' wanted some time to breathe and, like, enjoy a little freedom, but...but the WORST...the WORST is that he's trying to force me into another SHOWMANCE! With Michael BUBLE! Who, while han...hands...pretty, is much too old, and, like, we've never MET! I can't take spending whole months of my life faking being in love when I could...I could enjoy BEIN' in love!" She rambled, half-expecting Santana to give her the ol' rolled eyeball, but the dark-eyed beauty was just looking right at her really intensely, and Rachel didn't know what to do about that.

Certainly not with their faces so close, and Santana petting her hair all nice, and the taller girl's dress having ridden up her thighs a little higher than usual. So, to keep from doing something she'd very certainly regret, Rachel just kept talking. Hey, Santana's mouth was almost closed, so the woman obviously expected her to keep going. Who was she to disappoint?

"I miss...I miss passion, and adven...adventure! We...Santana, WE have had adventures! I don't want my life controlled like a chess piece made of...of wood or stone or whatever they're made of. I used to be so passionate, like a...a passion fruit! I used to, like, take bulls by the horns and live LIFE. An' I love the stage, and singing, I do, I do, I do, but...but my agent's a JERK! I wanna feel alive again, like that time you took me out thrift shoppin' and we got chased out a store by a toucan!" Rachel ended with a cackle, remembering how Santana had practically shrieked when the strange bird had landed on her head. Almost immediately, the taller girl had taken hold of Rachel's hand and dashed out of the store with her in tow, the bird eventually intercepted by a low hanging sign for an ice-cream shop they'd fled into.

"Augghhh, fucking bird. Why's it always come back to that one? Why not the time we pranked Kurt by puttin' his brooches in a vat of mayo that we hid at NYADA and made a treasure map for? Why not the time we walked the High Line for the first time, in the dead of winter, pretending we were foreign spies negotiatin' some shady international deal?" Santana asked, and they were rather reasonable questions, but she did have especially fond memories of the bird story. That, and she still had a bracelet Santana picked out for her from that shop, and she'd managed to get her best friend to have some of her ice cream after the ordeal. It'd been a really nice day.

"All good adventures. Allllll good ones." Rachel agreed, patting Santana's arm as further show of agreement, because she did have a point. "But what about the time you wanted to find the sketchiest hole in the wall pub in New York? You dragged me across the city for...for FIVE weekends straight, for HOURS each Saturday night. Fun, totally fun, but the prize wasn't worth it in the end." Rachel added, giggling at the memory of finally finding the sketchiest establishment either of them had ever laid eyes on. Only, of course, to go inside and have the barkeep offer Pabst on tap as their special. Gag.

Rachel smiled as Santana pulled her closer at the waist, just holding her. It was a nice feeling. It was a nice night.

"Hey, s'all about the in-between, Berry. That's the adventure. But yeah, that place was SUPER sketch. Almost as sketchy as that 'hip new club' you dragged me to a few years ago, where everyone was dressed in latex and leather, and like twenty people were drinkin' out of a fountain of blood." Rachel knew Santana would bring that night up, and couldn't help but laugh at her dramatics. For once, she was the level-headed, reasonable one of the two that night.

"Oh hush now, Santana. They didn't drink BLOOD, it was likely some sort of mixture of kool-aid and...and a thickening agent. And ske...sketchiness of the attire aside, you seemed rather taken with some of the...hrm... outfits." Rachel asserted with a sly grin, the unimpressed scowl and flustered lip bite all the evidence she needed to know she was on the mark. Which was nice, since she'd never brought it up before, but always assumed, and now she had an answer.

"So I might'a thought some of the stuff was a little hot or whatever. Still sketchy as hell, and you can't say that wasn't blood, Rach, it was crusting on their greedy, gross little goblin chins. Urgh." The woman let out a shudder as she recounted the memory. "I swear, the only time I've been more disturbed over food was when I saw Mercedes dive into a fresh tray of tots and shovel 'em into a huge tupperware container with her hands. At least Sam seems to keep her tot addiction in check these days, though, while those crazies are probably still playing vampire."

Rachel considered Santana's words before shaking her head, feeling a little sad to burst the woman's bubble. "Mmm, nope. When I last visited Quinn, I learned she keeps tots in her freezer for when Mercedes pops by. And since Mercedes visits her each weekend, I can only assssuuuume tots are eaten."

Rachel didn't even need to look at Santana to know the woman's posture slumped down a little at the revelation. "Beh, well, it figures, I s'pose. I'm sure Mike can't keep Tina from buying those hideous rags out of the nineteen-fifties' worst dressed lists, just like I'm sure Sugar can't keep Wheels from forgettin' he's not a sassy black woman any time someone breaks out into song. Some things jus' don't change." Santana finished in a mumble, taking a brief swig of Rachel's pocket vodka afterward. Which was terribly unfair, and had her swiping it back for a sip of her own.

The fresh hit of alcohol had Rachel surging out of Santana's very super comfortable embrace, and standing before the fountains, some classical piece orchestrating the jets that Rachel couldn't quite pinpoint in her tipsy haze.

"But...but things CAN change. We want it to, YOU said you wanted change." She announced, drawing a determined nod from Santana, which only spurred Rachel on further, knowing she had her best friend's support. Her favourite person's support. "All the other glee members...they all changed, maybe not for the best, but they DID. An' a lot of them are together, and...and MARRIED! I ref...refuse to be the last to tie the knot!"

Santana's eager nodding was only hastened by her admissions, Santana bounding up from the stone seating to stand alongside her. "I don't want to be the crazy lesbian cat lady." Santana noted firmly, looking all sorts of determined, even if it was definitely unnecessary.

"But you can't be. I mean...you're youuu...you HAVE to draw in plenty of...plenty of..." Rachel started, blushing hard at the idea of actually finishing the sentence. Her decision was eventually made for her as Santana seemed to catch on, letting out a gale of laughter at the freshly pouting diva, not appreciating being laughed at.

"Pussy. 'S the word you're lookin' for, tiny." Santana finished with that damnable signature smirk of hers. It was unfair to look so sexy and arrogant at the same time. "And...I do alright with one-nighters. You know me."

It was true, Rachel DID know Santana. Still, something seemed off about that statement, and Berry's mind slowly worked through her haze to figure it out. Sure, Santana was a very attractive woman, and she was sure her best friend could take her pick of most single lesbians in New York. But Santana also said she didn't want to become a cat lady, and cat ladies were notoriously single.

Rachel's eyes widened at the revelation she came to, wondering how she'd missed it all along. "But...but you're still lonely."

Now, as soon as Rachel had spoken those words, she realized her error. Santana was rarely one to show vulnerability, at least in public, and yet she'd aired it out. While they were relatively alone by the fountain, there were still people passing by about fifty yards away. It was probably only eight o' clock.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Santana turned away from her, head slightly bowed and hands fiddling with each other in that nervous way they always did when the woman was feeling sad. "I'm not...I'm not lonely, okay? I'm NOT. You know me, I get around, and I talk to EVERYONE, too many people...so how can I be lonely? As fuckin' IF." Santana stated, her words a little too sharp, her tone a little too hollow; the lie she'd built in haste was tailor-made to fracture at the slightest pressure, and Rachel wasn't sure she'd like what happened if she broke it. More than that, though, she couldn't imagine allowing Santana to lie to her about something like that. She was a bit drunk, but not stupid.

As smoothly as her slightly uncoordinated body could manage, Rachel slipped to Santana's side and rested a hand over Santana's stilling the girl's hand-wringing. "San...you're doin' that thing with your hands...don't lie to me, please. Just...jus' talk to me." She spoke quietly, giving the woman's hands a light squeeze, hoping Santana would feel better. It always made Rachel feel better when Santana touched her like that.

But Santana just spun away from her, hands shooting to her hips in what she knew was the woman's last-ditch 'power stance'. Rachel remembered the first time she'd seen it, on stage the day after the concert where Brittany had thrown up on her; she'd wager a guess that Santana was crying now, much like she had been then, but the woman clearly didn't want Rachel to see that.

Which was really sad, because she'd seen Santana cry a lot of times since then. She'd even held Santana sometimes, when the woman had been a big mess of heartache, so Rachel didn't understand why her best friend was putting a wall up now, of all times.

It just made no sense, and all Rachel knew was that her best friend was upset, and she needed that to be made better. It was then that she remembered that drunk Santana was sort of big on hugs, or at least Rachel's own patented 'Berry Delightful Hugs'. So with the courage of a thousand razorbacks, whatever those happened to be, Rachel stepped closer, only stumbling slightly, and slipped her arms around Santana's waist.

The telltale high-pitched whimper Santana let out as she held Rachel's arms in place was enough to know her gesture was appreciated, which was all it took to have Rachel smiling again. Still, she knew that the whole loneliness topic was probably a mood killer, but figured that maybe if she focused on each other, it'd be better. Maybe she could just let go, and tell Santana how she felt. Or, well, perhaps just a teensy bit.

Rachel nodded as thoughts bloomed in her mind, her alcohol-bestowed courage allowing them to beat out all the worries about her agent's actions, and all the love life issues she'd had in the past. She'd always restricted herself to dating co-workers, due to all the time constraints in her life, but it had a lot of very attractive potential partners getting excluded over something as simple as time management. Before, she'd been scared to date others, especially Santana, because there'd be barely any time to see each other, and it'd be depressing to live in a short distance relationship that operated as long distance, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt anyone like that and make them bitter.

But she wasn't on contract anymore, and she had money, and some fame, and could make her OWN schedule now! She didn't have to be scared to date anyone anymore! No, Rachel Barbra Berry wasn't going to stand for that anymore! She would MAKE time. She would roll it in a pastry and bake it at three-seventy-five for fifteen minutes, and she'd frosting that motherfudger! And it would be DELICIOUS!

So with a plan in mind, she nuzzled her cheek into the back of Santana's shoulder and gave the woman's waist a squeeze. "I can't believe we're both single. We're...we're both FUN...we had a LOT of fun when we lived to...together in Bushwick, and even in the years since we've been on our own. I loved those times. I...I miss those times a lot." Rachel whispered with the utmost tact, ever so subtly shifting the conversation toward their time together, and hinting that she'd cherished spending time with Santana. She just hoped the woman would see through her nuance and notice what she was really saying.

Thankfully, Santana slowly turned in their embrace, looking every bit the breathtakingly beautiful, sad woman she was, faint tear tracks tracing down those remarkably enviable cheekbones of hers. "I miss it too. I...I miss YOU...I..." Santana started before wiping her eyes and trying to step away from their hug. Rachel didn't let up, though, holding on tight like the koala bears Santana always teased her of emulating. There was no way she was about to let go after hearing those words; words which didn't make a terribly large amount of sense, since they video-called at least twice a week and texted every day. Rachel truly missed the time they spent together, and she missed being close with Santana, but she wasn't sure what Santana meant in saying she missed her.

It didn't take long for the woman to stop her minor struggle, letting out a long sigh before leaning her head forward to rest against Rachel's. "I miss you so much." Santana's revised five words really didn't shed any more light on the matter, and Rachel was about seven seconds from a frustrated foot-stomp, just wanting some clarity, and wanting to know what she could do to make the most important woman in her life happy again.

"Why?" It was the only words Rachel could muster, especially with her phone making annoying noises in her bag. She'd told her agent she was on vacation, he didn't need to be calling her in the middle off the night on a weekend she'd booked off. She had more important things to worry about.

Santana missed her, and she just had to know why, every reason why. Nothing else would do, not with her predictably curious nature, or her desire for relative openness in her companionship with Santana. Sure, she wasn't entirely open about what she felt for her best friend, but she also hadn't been the one to make such a blatant statement, or look so desperately unhappy.

"I jus'...I try to be okay with only seein' you on my laptop or my phone, 'kay? I try, and I know you're super busy, but I miss you. I miss SEEING you and...and bein' with you, and it's to...totally different when you're being all smart and ridiculous and CUTE over a call than...than when you're on the couch with me, alright?" Santana ranted tearfully, clearly having slipped into one of her booze-driven hysterical episodes. It was all Rachel could do just to hold the woman tightly, but Santana managed to struggle out of her grasp just as Rachel's phone rang yet again. "And...and it sucks 'cuz it's our LIVES, and you can't help it, and I get that, but you're right, I'm...I'm lonely...I miss you...and... "

When Rachel's phone rang again, once more disrupting her focus on Santana's heartfelt appeal, she couldn't help but grab the phone from her bag and unlock it. Her initial plan was to turn it off, but upon seeing a string of texts from Michael Bublé's agent on what she was to wear to their date tomorrow after the studio session, Rachel could hardly BREATHE she was so angry. It reminded her vaguely of her agent trying to set her up with him, and she couldn't remember the details, but she knew it was really, really dumb, and she wasn't going to stand for any of it.

It was only the sight of Santana's hands wringing once more in her peripheral vision that brought Rachel's focus back to the woman before her, looking about as vulnerable as ever. It seemed the hysterical period was predictably dying off, but where Santana was usually harder and defensive after the brief instance of intense emotion, the woman just looked nervous and worried. It was enough to get Rachel to shut off her phone, drop it back into her bag, and deal with that madness later.

Santana's mouth opened and closed a few times as light sobs leaked out. Like a light switch flicking on in Rachel's head, she realized this wasn't just a matter of drunkenness on Santana's part anymore. This was very, very real. Santana's hands clenched each other tightly once more before her left hand gestured to Rachel.

"...and...and I love you." Just as Rachel went to take hold of the woman's hand again in hopes of comforting her, the faintest, most hopeful three words she'd ever heard filled the air between them, Santana's lips curling up into this shy, sad smile.

All of a sudden, it was like Santana had come along with that electric blanket she'd used to warm Rachel up when she had the flu three years ago, and wrapped it around her heart. It was like Celine Dion herself was in her tummy singing 'To Love You More', and memories of the glee club's performance of Bruno Mars' 'Marry You' for Kurt and Finn's parents fluttered around in her brain. Her cheeks might have hurt from smiling, but the joy of the moment, mixed with Santana's smile blooming with hope as well, was enough to just focus on the here and now.

Then it just clicked, a plan for the ages slipping into place that would make everything so much better, and make them both happier. The sheer brilliance of it nearly had her squealing had she not already made the decision that her mouth could be put to better use elsewhere, closing the distance between the both of them and finally, FINALLY making good on that 'I Kissed A Girl' duet between them years ago.

Bliss. It was pure, unadulterated bliss to feel Santana's against her own, her body buzzing so wonderfully that she couldn't help but feel drunk on love more than anything else as their lips moved together so delicately. It was perfect, or would be, once she sealed the deal. Sure, it was odd to be on the other side of the whole dynamic given her experience with it all, but when she smiled into the kiss and leaned backward, giving her room to see the sheer joy on Santana's face, Rachel knew she'd made the right decision.

Blindly, she stuck her hand into her bag again, feeling around for what she needed; they were in front of the marvelously beautiful Bellagio fountains, they'd had a dramatic confession of love, and a dramatic kiss, so it HAD to be there. It just had to be.

But as seconds passed and her hands found just her usual items, she couldn't help but tear up in frustration. She was so close! Rachel took a few more seconds to ensure there truly wasn't a little box in there, and stomped her foot in a mix of disbelief and annoyance that life couldn't just do this for her.

"It's not fair!" She cried out, maybe blubbering a tiny bit, but Santana didn't seem to mind, sweeping her up into a fierce hug that she desperately needed in order to keep her composure. The drama gods had betrayed her after all of her years of faithful service! What gall! What impertinence!

"Wha...what's goin' on, Rachel? What's wrong?" Santana whispered rather quickly, almost frantically, almost as if she too had discovered the treachery of what had just unfolded inside Rachel's bag.

"W...well, you love me, an' we kissed, and it was amazing and beautiful, and I wanna marry you, an' I would've got down on a knee and proposed, and it would have been beautiful and we'd be beautiful, but I can't because I don't have a riiiing!" Rachel whined, for perhaps the first time in her life, but it was entirely justified. There they were, on vacation together, having a romantic night out, and the fates declared they couldn't get married, and it just wasn't FAIR.

It wasn't. Why could Brittany marry her husband in Vegas, but she couldn't marry Santana? It hurt, and it made no sense, so she just clung to Santana and cried at the terrible injustice done to them both.

* * *

Gobsmacked. It was the only word to describe how Santana felt the moment Rachel tearfully confessed to wanting to marry her, and she didn't use that word often, even in her thoughts. Hell, she wasn't sure it was good enough, but astonished and astounded sort of fit the bill.

Sure, she'd felt some vibes from Rachel all night long, and yeah, she'd confessed to loving the diva in a moment of weakness, and of course that kiss was majestic and she'd remember it for the rest of her life. God, would she ever.

Marriage, though? That was right out of the blue, and Santana wasn't sure what to do. Her heart was screaming YES so loudly it almost drowned out the rest of her thoughts, but vaguely, there in the back, was a nagging voice reminding her of where they were, and what they'd done.

"Rachel...baby, we'll figure this out, okay?" She asked, earning a wordless whine from the weeping diva, who reluctantly nodded against her neck, and GOD was it hard not to just sweep the woman away to her hotel for a hell of a night, but she needed answers. "In...in the meantime, I jus'...I need to ask you something really important, mi querida."

Rachel took a moment to lift a hand and wipe her eyes before meeting her gaze. "Anything...so long as you call me that again, anything."

It was a little too hard to fight her smile, so she let it bloom and just squeezed her diva a little tighter at the waist, hoping some extra affection would help Rachel concentrate. "Are you sober right now?"

Sure, Santana knew they'd had a few shots, as well as a swig or two from Rachel's bottle, but they were both a long way from being the lightweights they were when they were teens. "It's jus' you're a little clingy, and you get like that when you're drunk. Like, for real drunk."

Rachel's predictable harrumph was amusing as usual, and the foot stomp that followed it was cute as ever, even if the diva stepped away from her to do so. Hell, Rachel didn't even stagger or waver at all. "I think...I think it's reasonable to be clingy when an amazing woman confesses her love to you, Santana. You have no idea...no idea how long I've dreamed of hearing those words, so of course I'm gonna be clingy. I mean, I do, I do get like that when I'm drunk, but the only thing I'm drunk off right now is love. I'm jus' a bit tipsy from the liquor, but I know what I'm doing, San. I love you. I...I wanna marry you." Rachel's voice tapered off at the end as tears filled the diva's big brown doe eyes once more, that lower lip quivering away.

Hearing Rachel say those same vaunted words back to her, all shiny-eyed and sincere, meant more than words could say. And that Rachel had liked her like that for a while? It had Santana all giddy, feeling that this wasn't just some impulse thing for Rachel, it was real. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't some spur of the moment thing; it was REAL.

And Santana had to admit, Rachel made a good point, and the fact that Berry was able to step away from her and not show a need to cling over the past thirty or so seconds basically had her sold that the diva was sober enough. Sober enough for Santana to believe Rachel wanted this just as much as she did.

And with that, she nodded, and lured her best friend back in for another hug, knowing the woman was probably too distraught to realize that it was only quarter past eight, giving them enough time to get it done if they wanted to. Her parents would threaten to flog her, Santana was sure, but her mami's parents got married the weekend they met. If that was good enough for those two lovebirds, who were still going strong after all these years, it was good enough for her and Rachel.

Santana pressed her lips to Rachel's temple, enjoying the content sigh that followed. Hells yes, she could do this. "Why don't we take this one step at a time, then, mi querida? Hrm? What would we need for us to get it right?" She asked, planting another kiss to Rachel's temple as she prayed this all wasn't a really awesome dream.

Rachel's cheek felt obscenely good nuzzling against her own, the diva's hands ever so slowly making their descent from the small of her back to where they'd been at the hotel bar. Not that she begrudged the woman, Santana knew she had a nice ass.

"A...a ring?" Rachel replied, and maybe Santana should have expected that sort of predictable narrowed focus, given how distressed the diva was.

"Querida, we can't get married in our bridesmaids dresses. They're hot pink, an' while we're hot enough to pull it off, we should look the part, 'kay?" Santana asked, earning a slow nod from her possibly soon-to-be-wife. "And don' you worry about a ring. Always said you were a hobbit, and I know you can lead us to one after, but first...dresses."

"Does..." Rachel started, before leaning her head back enough to stare Santana in the eyes. "Does that mean you're my San Gamgee?"

It was a low blow for sure, even if it was playful; she'd always hated Sam in the movies, and for Rachel to compare her to the doofus was scowl-inducing. And maybe it made her the tiniest bit grumpy. "Pshhh. Get real, Rach. I'm totally Leg'las, or Aragorn. Anyway, you're serious about this? A...about me?"

Rachel's blinding smile and the lingering, soul soothing, heart-destroying kiss that followed were pretty fantastic answers. Answers she'd be happy to receive for the rest of her damn life whenever Rachel was willing.

"Then let's go."

* * *

Twenty-five minutes. It had been twenty-five minutes since she'd sent Rachel to get some dresses, a necessary task and easy enough ruse to slip away and find a goddamn ring. Apparently, that was all the time the diva had needed, Berry sliding onto a bench down the hall with a big bag beside her, swinging her legs back and forth like the cutest fucking person in existence. From her secluded spot in the jeweler, Santana knew her time was limited before the diva would get impatient or curious and aimlessly seek her out.

Which, ultimately, wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world. Still, she had a dream a few years ago that had her certain of what ring she'd get Rachel in the unlikely event they married, and now that she had the opportunity, Santana wasn't about to pass it up. It was, like, important.

She swiveled around and stepped further into the shop, stopping at the same place she'd been waiting for most of her time there. It's not like her request had been difficult; she'd asked about a specific type of diamond, and after over ten minutes of the salesperson trying to dissuade her from the decision for some goddamn reason, they eventually went to the back to determine their stock. Santana figured the delay was another tactic to push her toward more traditional, expensive ones, but she didn't care. The salesperson let slip that they did have the right type, and that was all she'd needed to hear.

Thankfully, it only took five more minutes for the employee to find her again, looking entirely unimpressed as he showed her the three they had on inventory. It wasn't a hard decision, and after a few seconds of checking the colour of the stones, the clarity, and the cut quality, she made her selection. Now, Santana wasn't rich by any means, but she had a nice little nest egg, and wasn't afraid to dip into it a little bit for the right occasion, and this was one of them. The white gold band was simple and tapered a little where it held a one and a half carat marquise cut diamond. A bit untraditional for sure, but it just seemed right.

Besides, Santana figured once she popped the question, Rachel would demand to get a ring of her own to give her as well, but she thought the diva would appreciate being the first one to slip the ring on at the actual ceremony and all. Santana was willing to negotiate, so long as she had a head start.

She could feel herself mentally counting down the minutes as the sale processed, knowing that Rachel's patience was probably almost up, and when she had the box in her hand, Santana practically darted out of the shop and into another, calmly exiting it just as Rachel started to get up off the bench.

Her pace quickened when Rachel turned her way, another of those brilliant smiles on the diva's face as her best friend excitedly lifted up a bag from Tadashi Shoji. Honestly, it was just one step closer to a position she never dreamed she'd find herself in, and when Santana finally found herself in front of Rachel, she was just about breathless in anticipation.

"So we have dresses...what's next?" The bubbly woman asked as she hugged Santana's arm, eyes wide with expectation.

Santana looked around, quickly finding a moderately decent place to propose, this big marble fountain with statues inside of it in the middle of a large opening between hallways. She was working off slightly less than ideal standards anyway, given the situation, but none of that mattered with Rachel at her side. "Why don't we just take a bit of a breather over at that fountain, alright? I know I'm sobering up and could use a bit of a rest." She asked, earning a happy nod from the diva, Rachel hooking an arm around hers as they walked the short distance and sat down on the marble ledge.

"Mmm, same here, my legs feel like hardened jelly. So...do you want to see the dresses? I thought they were 'specially beautiful, and while I was rushed an' on a budget, I thought I did well." Rachel blurted out almost immediately, just brimming with excitement. Santana had to shake her head free of any doubts and just go with it, needing to accept this was all real.

"Well, since we're both brides to be, isn't it bad luck for both of us to see each other's dresses?" She asked, Rachel's mouth opening to answer before it clamped shut in giving a sheepish, confident nod. "It's okay, querida, I'm...you have no idea how excited I am, trust me." She added, leaning over to kiss that cute nose of hers.

"While...while I know that...you've heard me blabber on and on...so...can you...tell me a little about how excited you are? Just a tiny bit?" Rachel asked hesitantly, before pulling out the big guns; namely, those puppy dog eyes and that precious pout of hers. Santana never stood a chance, and instead decided to fast-track things, making the best of the situation.

"Okay, okay. So, uh...here goes. Rachel...mi querida, I've pretty much loved you for a long time. Long enough to have dreamed of a day like this a few years ago. Gold stars have always been your thing, as you've repeated to me countless times, because you are a star yourself. There was a time I didn't believe that, but... as years went by and things got hard for me, even if we weren't all that close sometimes, you were kind of like Polaris, the North Star, to me. Whether you knew it or not, you helped push me through a lot of shit, and eventually helped me on my way to where I am now...I've never stopped looking to you to help point me in the right direction, Rachel. And as I watched after you and found my own path, I grew to love you deeper than I thought possible." Santana spoke, trying to figure out some fancy spiel in her head, wanting to get a whole lot of truth off her chest that had been hanging around for far too long. And while she thought she was failing miserably, Rachel's tearful smile was enough to keep her going.

"This whole time, you always seemed so far away. Especially these past years, so I felt like that frog in that Disney movie who fell in love with a star. But every time I'd see you, I'd just fall in love again, and I tried to fill my days with others, but they could never keep me as warm as I felt from you just smiling at me. So if you need to know if I'm excited, baby, I am...this...this feels like a dream, but I w...want to wake up tomorrow and know it's come true." Santana felt herself choking up as she finished her little speech, shifting as smoothly as she could manage to one knee in front of Rachel, her hands shaking as she pulled the box out of her bag and tilted it open. "Rachel Barbra Berry...will you say you'll marry me again?"

Rachel brought one hand down from where it'd been cupping her mouth, silently extending it toward Santana as she nodded vigorously and cried. Any remaining bit of haze from the alcohol was destroyed the moment she slipped that ring onto Rachel's, reveling in the fact that it fit perfectly, but not being able to enjoy that for long, what with being tackled into a Berry excited hug. Sure, they'd drawn a bit of a crowd, even this late at night, but Rachel was all she had eyes for.

"You got a ring!" The diva literally cried as hot tears washed against Santana's neck. "It looks like a staaaar!"

The high pitched whine that Rachel's tearful exclamations ended in had her second guessing for decision, for once, unsure she'd made the right call in going with her gut instead of a more traditional, classic piece. "Is...is it okay?"

"I'm never taking it off." Rachel answered with a sniffle before kissing her neck. "And that...that may have been the cutest, romantic proposal I've heard, baby. Yes, I'll marry you. And yes, I love the ring. I love you!" Rachel clarified, sealing her answer with another kiss before putting a tiny bit of distance between them, the diva still holding onto her loosely. "But...but now I have to get YOU one too, you know."

Santana let out a sigh and nodded, smiling at her diva, knowing one of the jewelers in the mall would soon be met with Hurricane Berry.

Even if Rachel let go of her hand as they traipsed through the mall, there was no doubt in Santana's mind that she'd still follow her anywhere.

* * *

Rachel was feeling a bit of pre-wedding jitters as she waited in the little bridal room. This time, she wasn't a naive little teenager waiting to marry a boy because she'd just lost out on her NYADA audition. No, this time she was ready to marry her best friend, the woman she'd been crushing on for ages, the one who always managed to light up her life.

She looked down at the ring Santana had given her and smiled; while it was nothing like the rings she'd dreamed of as a girl, it had so much sentiment attached to it that it blew everything out of the proverbial water. In truth, she'd chosen Santana's engagement ring for much the same sentimental reasons, even if she'd purchased it in secret and declared it'd be given along with a wedding band at the ceremony.

Which, predictably annoyed her bride-to-be, but Rachel did insist Santana could get something remarkably cheap for her wedding band, even if they ultimately decided on matching ones. Nothing would outshine her, or her engagement ring, so a simple band was all that was necessary for her.

Still, it all had her nervous. They were minutes away from tying the knot, and while she had no doubts, she did hope it wouldn't hurt her parents' feelings that they eloped at Luxor casino's chapel instead of doing a bigger, planned ceremony back home in Lima, or in New York City. Additionally, her friends and coworkers had invited her to their weddings in past years, and she felt guilty not being able to have them share her moment like she'd shared theirs. Especially all of the glee club crew.

It might have gotten her to dip into her pocket vodka again. Just enough to drown out the voices of disappointed family and friends. And maybe to celebrate a little, because finally, for the first time in a very long time, she felt in complete control, and life was taking a turn for the better. It was enough to propel her into song, and who was she to avoid such an opportunity to express herself, even if just to an empty room?

"Oh thiiiiiis, is the niiight, it's a beauuuutiful niiight, and we caaaall it the belllllllla notte..." Rachel sang quietly as she sat at the vanity, shifting to humming as she re-applied her hours old lip stain. Yes, life was good, and the only thing that could have possibly made it better was if Santana were there with her to snuggle up with and sing to, but Rachel understood that they'd be together soon enough. There were only a few minutes left until they'd be called into the chapel for their impromptu wedding, and she could survive a few minutes alone in exchange for the rest of her life with her wife-to-be.

While it might not have been the wedding of her dreams, it was more than enough, because she was happy, and Santana loved her so much, and she loved Santana so much, and didn't The Beatles sing that 'love is all you need'? Rachel needed music and theatre too, but they didn't really need to be a big part of a wedding, so love really was all she needed for her and Santana's wedding. Music and theatre could be implemented for vow renewals.

When the knock came at her door, letting Rachel know her time was up, she glanced down at the satin-wrapped box of rings, hoping Santana would feel as special as she had when her bride-to-be placed a star on her ring finger and all but called her the light of her life. Everything was taken care of; the rings, the venue, the music, the readings, everything. All that was left was to meet Santana and join their lives together officially. She took one last swig of her bottle before stashing the last of it in her bag, that pleasant warmth flooding her body and helping her take hold of the courage necessary to seal the deal and potentially embarrass herself with her choice of reading.

After all, the last time she tried getting married, Quinn lost the ability to walk for a few months. Rachel wasn't remarkably superstitious, but maybe she needed a little help pushing those worries aside as well.

Rachel took one last look at herself in the mirror, ensuring her bridal gown wasn't askew anywhere, and then exited the bridal room, offering an excited smile to the rather courteous employee who escorted her to the chapel room and handed her the bouquet to hold. When they made it to the entrance, Rachel took a deep breath before handing her escort the rings and nodding at him to open the doors and allow her through.

It truly was a gorgeous little room; the decor was elegant and classic, and made her feel like she was entering a small ballroom, if not for the ornate rug lining the floor. Even the chairs were quite wonderful, even if they were all empty, allowing a minor pang of guilt to make it through the warm haze blanketing her conscience.

Still, the breathtaking woman waiting at the altar for her was all her eyes could focus on once they fell upon her. Rachel allowed herself an internal high-five for the gown she'd picked out for Santana, the beautiful long sleeved lace and tulle number making her bride look like royalty. White had never looked better on the woman, that was for sure, especially with that dazzling smile on her lips.

The pianist played the traditional theme as she slowly made her way down the aisle and up to the altar, taking a moment to wipe a stray tear track from her bride's cheek, wishing she could bottle it up. Santana so rarely cried when she was happy, and it just made the night that much more momentous, knowing she'd helped make it happen.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Rachel Barbra Berry and Santana Maria Lopez in matrimony..." The minister began, his voice fading off momentarily as Santana took hold of her hand and began gently rubbing a soft thumb against her knuckles for a few moments before it was gone. It was a sweet gesture that helped her excited, hazy mind focus just in time for her reading.

With a nod from the minister, Rachel took hold of the paper one of the employees was so kind to print out for her. It was easier to keep patient and focus with the words in front of her, something she was thankful for given her tongue was getting rebelliously troublesome once more.

"I know I didn't have much time, but when you confessed to me, I knew I needed to read this. I know it's tradition for the minister to, but...I just have to. It's called 'Vow', by Clare Shaw, and I just...I think it's us. I...I know it is." Rachel offered as disclaimer before placing her full focus on the words, knowing she'd need to do her best not to stumble or slur on them. Santana deserved better than that.

"Say yes. That word on your lips is a kiss...is a promise already made. We made it. Love did not turn from hurt or hard work...when lights failed, it did not switch off. When love had no road, we willingly built it." Rachel read, trying not to tear up, because it'd only make it harder, but it was true. It was so true. Through all the crap they'd gone through together, and put each other through, they'd made it. Even when there seemed to be no hope, their paths intersected tonight, and they'd decided to create a new one together.

"We shouldered its stones and its dirt. So thank god there are days like this when it's easy... when we open our mouths and the words flood in. Put the word of your hand in mine. We have learnt to hold to each other when nothing was given by right...how love will insist with its ache...with its first painful tug on the guts. Its snake in the nest of the ribs, the bomb in the chest, in the Y of the thighs...the red, red, red sun of it, rising. How love must, at all costs, be answered." She continued, reaching out her bouquet-gripping hand toward her bride at the sound of a sniffle, Santana's immediate touch making everything feel right in the world.

"We have answered, and so have a million before us, and each of their names is a vow. So now I can tell you, quite simply...you are the house I will live in. There is no good reason to move. Good earth, you are home, stone, sun, and all my countries. Vital to me as the light. You are it, and I am asking. Say yes." Rachel continued, blinking away her tears, hoping, knowing Santana felt the words as she herself did. Over the past years, her best friend's friendship had been her anchor when the seas of her life grew stormy. Santana had been her last vestige of normalcy, the one who could reel her in and make her feel home with just a smile and a few words, the one who could build up her confidence and defenses against the cruel rumourmongers and occasional heinous coworkers. That Rachel could soon have all of that woman to share her life with, to consider home, was a light at the end of a tunnel she'd long since gotten lost in and had nearly given up on escaping.

"Love opens a door, then slams it. It does...it loses its touch and its looks...but love needs its fury. We have fought, and when times make it necessary, we will again." Rachel added, earning a watery laugh from Santana, clearly in agreement, because they did fight. They did squabble and bicker. Not every day, or even necessarily every week, but enough for such events to never become uncommon. They were both abrasive in their own ways, and that just created friction. Some wonderful, and some not so much, but they'd always made it through. "When night draws in, we won't forget how once the streets ran wet with light and love... like blood. They will again. But for now, we make our promises gently. This extraordinary day we have made. Listen...the birds in their ordinary heaven...tonight the sky will blaze with stars. Today, my love, rooms blossom with flowers."

Rachel didn't need the paper anymore, handing it back to her helpful employee escort blindly as she took in the sight of her tearful bride. "Say yes. The sky is ours." She finished, bringing her hand to cover Santana's on her own and offering a comforting squeeze as Santana used her other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

When Santana finally lifted her gaze to Rachel, the sheer love in her eyes nearly had her stumbling, her knees feeling weakened at the awe radiating from the woman before her.

"That was lovely, dear." The minister spoke, offering Rachel a kind smile before gesturing them to move closer and temporarily reprieving Rachel of the bouquet. "Now, as you both well know, marriage is a commitment of the deepest love, and wedding rings are a lasting, visible symbol of this to express this dedication to the world, and to take comfort in another's love when we need it most or are apart. Rings are circular, like love, with no beginning or end, representing what has been and what will always remain, sturdy enough to endure the years of joy and adventure together, and any trials you're sure to bear. Isaac, if you will bring the rings, thank you."

Rachel's escort, Isaac, ever so smoothly handed off the rings to the minister, who held them out in sight of both brides.

"I've been informed that Miss Lopez wishes to say her vows first, so I'll leave you the floor, dear." The minister stated, letting Santana take the wedding band before shifting a step backward. Santana had offered her the right to go first earlier, but Rachel had insisted that she'd prefer to go second, knowing it was important to save the best for last. Santana had started the night off with a proposal for the ages, and she would cap their ceremony off with a nice concise finale during their final bow as single women.

"Rachel...somehow, despite everything, you always had a read on me. Even in high school, when I was miserable and mean, and defensive, you always managed to figure me out. Like how you found out I was taking AP English Lit at the tail end of junior year, when no one else knew. Thing is...if I wasn't so stubborn, this could maybe be our fifth anniversary vow renewal, because almost every time I saw you in high school, I kept being reminded of a bit of lit my father had me read in sophomore year. I'm...I'm paraphrasing, but..." Santana started off, her uncoordinated speech reminding her of all the times she'd accidentally caught the cheerleader reading some tome, often hidden away in a library nook or in the back of the auditorium, far from the civilization of her peers. Those had been moments of curiosity, offering her glimpses that much like how she'd believed the girl in sophomore year, there was more under the surface of Santana Lopez than barbed wit and snark.

"But it goes something like this...in the book of my memory, on the first page of the chapter where I met you, are these words. 'Here begins a new life'." Santana recited, the words honestly making Rachel feel a little faint, her brain immediately reassessing some of the questionable and odd looks Santana had given her back in the dark ages of high school.

The magnitude of the statement was a little overwhelming; she was five foot two, and the idea of providing Santana a new life was much, much bigger than her, physically and metaphorically. Yet, the adoration and raw love in Santana's eyes let her know that no matter how overwhelmed she might be, Santana believed those words wholeheartedly.

"And back then, I made myself think it was just glee, it was you giving me a place to express myself and be free to be who I am, but really...really it was you opening yourself to me and my heart recognizing that you were where I belonged. And when I started to realize that, the day you stopped by my locker with that photo of yours and the offer of friendship...for me of all people... there were times I was scared of that. There were times I cherished it. And there were times like when I ran a half a world away from you in hopes it wasn't true, because how could love hurt so colossally, but there was never a moment from that day at my locker onward that I stopped believing it. This life I've lived that you brought into existence...I want to share it all with you." Santana finished, wiping a tear from her eye and taking hold of Rachel's hand.

It was too much to process, but ultimately, Rachel knew Santana loved her. For a long time, apparently, and that was amazing, and would certainly make a wonderful anthology of stories one day. However, right then, her bride's love and the feel of the eternity band slipping onto her ring finger were enough to overwhelm her senses, tears freely leaking down her cheeks as Santana took hold of her hand.

"With this ring, I offer all I have to give. My heart, my faith, my trust...'til my body is dust, and my soul is no more, I will love you." Santana vowed, the excerpt from a rather dramatically romantic song Rachel loved only making the diva's throat feel thicker and more choked up than ever.

When the minister motioned to her to continue the ceremony, she honestly had to lift a finger and take a bit of a breather for a moment, just needing to get her emotions under control and her focus back, because if she didn't, she was sure her words would come out as a mess of random syllables, and as funny as that might sound, it was hardly appropriate after Santana's sweet vows.

"Just take your time, Rachel. We don't need to hurry anymore, mi querida, so just take your time." Santana whispered, her bride tenderly rubbing her hand, which was more comforting than calming, though it was helpful. Just knowing Santana would wait for her, and that they had time, was enough to fast-track the process and push through the wave of emotions threatening to drag her in its undertow.

It took another half minute, but eventually, Rachel felt her throat loose up a bit and the tears dry up enough to continue. She offered Santana a light squeeze of her hand before reaching for her package of rings and taking hold of them.

"I'm aware I'm being unorth...unorthodox again, but since you got to propose to me, love, I wanted to save this for my vows. Santana, once upon a time, you told me you had a heart of ice. Another time, you said that you had no heart." Rachel began slowly and carefully, her words causing a flash of regret and pain across her bride's face. "I've known for a while that those words came from a place of fear and pain. You'd been hurt before...by me, especially...and you were defensive and trying to protect yourself. Because...because you have the biggest heart, Santana...you do, and it's so beautiful, and generous, and I want to spend forever keeping it safe. There is nothing I would like more."

At that, Rachel unwrapped her little package of rings and took hold of the engagement ring she'd bought earlier. The enormous heart-shaped stone had been rather pricey, and it had added a large chunk onto her line of credit, but it was worth it, knowing what it represented to her. The moment she had seen it in the store, she knew it was the one; while Santana would likely grill her over the specifics of it later on, ones Rachel honestly didn't recall at all, all that mattered was that her bride was okay with it.

Santana's eyes were wide, mouth agape, and her hand, while still outstretched, was trembling. But the smile that spread on her face was so brazenly gleeful and open that it let her know Santana was excited, not scared or upset.

"Above all, Santana, I promise I'll care for and protect you and your heart. I hope that every time you look at this ring, you feel my love, and you know that your heart...your beautiful, enormous heart...is safe with me." Rachel added, taking hold of Santana's hand to steady it and guide the ring onto Santana's index finger, drawing a confused, choked 'what?' from her bride.

"For as long as I've known you, I've noticed that you point at whoever you talk to. It's been a part of many fond memories for me, from your constant challenges for me to...to improve myself and maintain my dignity, to you letting me know I was in for a marathon night of Netflix all cuddled up on the couch, to all the times we made up after fights, and...and the moment you confessed that you loved me. I want to make more of those memories, and I want everyone you talk to, to know the connection that we share, and for you to be reminded of my love for you every time you point that beautiful finger around." Rachel added, before slipping on the eternity band matching her own. "With this ring, I offer all I have to give...my heart, my trust, my faith. You will see I will give you everything you need. I will be the one to love you more, for the rest of our days."

Smiling at her own little adlib, and the little hitched breaths from her bridge who was so valiantly fighting her emotions, Rachel took a final step closer, anticipating the part she'd been looking forward to ever since Santana declared her vows.

"By the powers vested in me by the state of Nevada...you may kiss your bride." The minister noted warmly, he and the few other employees clapping along as Santana pulled her into an embrace and crushed their lips together. It was hardly the usual chaste, dainty kiss, but it also wasn't out of control or obscene. No, it was as if Santana was pouring all of her passion, and love, and joy into her with each bit of pressure from her lips, each swipe of her tongue, each flicker of a smile into their kiss.

They pulled apart a second or three later to face the camerawoman, smiling for the official photos that came with their package, but Rachel could hardly focus on that. So when Santana leaned in and kissed her cheek, and whispered to her about going back to her hotel room for their first night together, she was all too pleased to rush through the rest of the proceedings, excited to get a start on the rest of their lives together.

* * *

_Present Day, February 15th_

Santana looked around her hotel room, feeling entirely void of energy and motivation as she took yet another break from packing up her belongings. Not that she had much at all to pack, but she was just a little too numb and overwhelmed to handle much of anything at the moment. Santana knew how her body worked, and she'd let herself cry and feel when she was safe again, and the only place that fit that specific bill was home. In a way, she felt thankful that she'd had the foresight to book an early sign-out at her hotel, because it'd just ensure she'd get the hell out of Vegas as early as possible. It was only ten-thirty and she'd already gotten a warning from the staff; the possibility of being literally kicked out by the staff probably should have had her moving more quickly, but it wasn't something she could will her body to agree to.

It's funny what a few hours can change. The previous night, she'd taken time to memorize the pale floral wallpaper, the dense taupe carpet, the carved oak bed frame, and even that stupid little watercolour painting of a meadow on the wall. She'd wanted a full, vivid memory of the room where she and Rachel went to bed together for the first time, as wives. Where they'd wake up together for the first time, and start their lives together.

Now, all she wanted was to forget it, and leave the dead, empty room behind her and never return. Santana returned to finding room in her luggage for her bag of shower stuff; she was sure it fit in there on the way in, but for some reason there just didn't seem to be any room for it. Maybe it was the slightly added bulk of her wedding dress, something she refused to leave behind, but she'd already thrown her bridesmaid's dress away the previous night, so there should have been room.

She pressed and prodded and pushed, lazily trying to make space for it, considering her mind was elsewhere. Santana couldn't help but wonder about their marriage license; it would be registered in a few short days, and she expected that a few days after that, she'd get paperwork from Rachel in annulling it all.

Santana wouldn't blame Rachel. She couldn't, not if the woman was too drunk to have known. She realized now, that it had been a mistake. A glorious, wonderful mistake that had her heart soaring mere hours ago, but Rachel had made it clear enough earlier that she wanted no part of it, or her. Not really. She loved Rachel too much to cage her, so she'd sign those papers, even if it would tear her heart in two.

As her hands somehow managed to squeeze her bag in, if haphazardly, Santana shut her luggage and zipped it up, knowing her time in the city was coming to a close. It was for the best, really. By far, it had been the worst weekend of her life, and the sooner she distanced herself from it, the better. Sure, she could dream about what her life could have been like with Rachel, and whether they would have had a chance to last, but her mental and emotional energy was better spent wondering what she could do to avoid being the old lesbian cat lady of her social circle.

Santana gathered her luggage and took one last cursory look around before opening her door ad heading out into the hallway, thinking maybe she'd adopt a dog. When she was seven, she'd wanted a dog named Fudge, so maybe she could make that happen. After everything, Santana knew she could use some companionship, and having a pet to love and care for could be good for her. She nodded in agreement with her loosely formed plan as she stepped into the elevator, knowing she'd be incredibly early for her flight.

But hey, the sooner she was out of that god-forsaken city, the better. Good riddance.

* * *

To say Rachel was flustered was a severe understatement of the highest magnitude. Having to retreat from Santana's hotel in a full on gown had drawn a number of looks. Not being able to catch a cab had only added to her frustration, and even though her own hotel was a mere ten minute walk away, it hadn't been a trek she'd wanted to make in the light of day. Walk of shame, indeed.

Rachel had thought of other possible labels to describe walking home with a hangover after sleeping with one's best friend who she also happened to love, in what appeared to be a wedding dress, the day after their impromptu wedding. Nothing really came to mind, but by the time she'd reached her hotel's lobby, she decided someone should make one up. It'd make it a whole lot easier to explain, for starters.

Upon reaching the elevator, Rachel recalled Kurt had promised yesterday that he'd text her the address of the boutique stocking his fashions. It was an exciting turn of events for her friend, who had just a few years ago gotten back with Vogue, and had only a few months ago finished setting up his first line of clothing. Her flight back to New York wasn't until four, so she had a little time to make some good come out of her trip to Vegas. Well aside from Brittany's wedding, that is.

Well, not that her drunken self probably didn't have a blast with Santana, but given the woman's rather abrasive last words to her that morning, Rachel could only imagine her longstanding friendship with her best friend was on the rocks, to put it lightly.

She fished into her bag and took hold of her phone, only to find it turned off, which was unusual. Rachel rarely ever shut the thing off, knowing it was necessary to keep open lines of communication in case of emergency, or in case someone needed to get a hold of her. Feeling a little anxious, she powered on her phone and unlocked it, finding a slew of messages from her agent, along with the occasional text from Kurt and Tina.

Feeling a little on edge, considering she'd told her agent only to contact her if there was an emergency, Rachel loaded up the earliest message from him, knowing it'd likely have the most information. Rachel heard the elevator door open in her periphery and stepped into the vessel as she took in the message.

_'Rachel, you need to explain this! You have no idea the damage control I've got to deal with, and you put me in a shitty situation! Explain! Fix this!'_

Rachel's lips quirked to the side in confusion, reading over the message and not seeing any hint of emergency. Just some youtube link. She went to the next message, and the next, skimming through a number of messages from her agent, who seemed to know about her marriage somehow. Now, Rachel was under no impression she was an unknown to media, but she hadn't been followed by paparazzi all weekend, or almost at all in the past months.

Feeling a little curious, Rachel returned to that first message and opened the video on her phone as she pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

Her immediate impression was that the cameraman was no professional, the video quite shaky, but her internal criticisms fell silent as she saw the subjects of the video. Rachel didn't recognize the location, but it was an elaborate looking mall, one with an ornate marble fountain off in the distance behind the bench she saw herself sitting on, the video catching Santana walking toward her.

 _"Okay, so this woman's been super antsy buying a ring in the shop over there..."_ She heard a woman whisper, the camera quickly panning to some shop and then back to the couple before the store's sign could come into focus. " _And she kept peeking out at the small one on the bench a lot, and at first I thought, no way, but when I looked even closer I was like NO WAY because the tiny one's that singer from..."_

Rachel let the woman's voice fade into the background as she watched Santana approach her and guide her over to that rather fancy fountain, the video-taker in hot pursuit, creeping around and casually sitting a few feet away from them. The woman had stopped talking by now, and while the mix of fountain noises and passersby muddied the audio a little, she could make out Santana's voice clearly enough after a bit of extra creeping on behalf of the camerawoman.

 _"...on my way to where I am now...I've never stopped looking to you to help point me in the right direction, Rachel. And as I watched after you and found my own path, I grew to love you deeper than I thought possible."_ Rachel heard Santana speak so confidently, and so passionately that she thought she'd drop her phone in shock, had she not already been white-knuckling it.

No, that wasn't right. Santana was her best friend, but the woman had never shown interest. Well, not that Rachel tended to allow time for that; for her own safety, she'd limit their face to face encounters, and allow alcohol to mediate them.

Except last night, she'd apparently relied on alcohol again, only for Santana to apparently tire of the distance and confess to her. Yet, again, she knew Santana. Santana wouldn't make such dramatic declarations out of the blue. She was the type to get wordy and sappy when she felt safe, so there had to have been something before the video she'd paused, something to spur this on. To spur Santana to admit to loving her, to falling for her.

Rachel bit her lip as she rolled the video again, blindly leaving the elevator and making her way down the hall toward her room's general direction. _"This whole time, you always seemed so far away. Especially these past years, so I felt like that frog in that Disney movie who fell in love with a star. But every time I'd see you, I'd just fall in love again, and I tried to fill my days with others, but they could never keep me as warm as I felt from you just smiling at me. So if you need to know if I'm excited, baby, I am...this...this feels like a dream, but I w...want to wake up tomorrow and know it's come true._ _"_

Rachel 's body seized at the term of endearment, at the sweet confession, and found herself bracing against the hallway wall, sucking breath into her lungs as she watched Santana move from the fountain to kneel at Rachel's feet.

No. No, it was wrong. It had to be wrong, because they'd gotten married on a whim, as a joke, or for fun. But this looked nothing like any of that at all. It sounded nothing like that at all, not with Santana...

Rachel managed to pause the video as a wave of nausea rolled through her, her lack of a gag reflex doing nothing to help her from expelling clear, vile, acidic water onto the hallway floor. Santana had wanted to wake up today, married to her. Santana had woken up to her with a smile and a soft greeting. Santana had called her 'querida', and offered to help her hangover, and wanted to cuddle with her. Wanted to spend their first morning together for the rest of their lives in bed, wrapped up in each other.

Santana had wanted her. Santana had loved her. "And I left her." She whispered, another wave of sickness rippling through her body, but she was able to keep it in check as she ran down the hall to her room. Rachel's head was buzzing with an overload of information and emotions, but she knew that she had to get back to Santana.

Just as she entered her room, the mental image of Santana's flight tickets resting on the woman's side-table flashed in her mind, bringing with it the onset symptoms of a panic attack, knowing the woman's flight left soon.

Blindly, Rachel tapped at her phone's screen, loudly cursing when the video kept playing instead of opening another tab on the web browser like she'd wanted. _"Rachel Barbra Berry...will you say you'll marry me again?"_

The unexpected addition stilled Rachel for a moment, unsure what the heck to make of it. Had Santana proposed earlier and Rachel accepted? Was that why Santana had gone to buy the ring? But then, why the shock, since her drunken self had been clearly taken by surprise?

The thought of HER confessing to wanting to marry Santana flashed through her mind, leaving her feeling like something big was on the tip of her tongue. It was just too much to consider; they'd confessed their love, they'd gotten married, and they'd been far more serious than she'd expected.

In hindsight, the puzzle pieces DID add up. The two white dresses that had been strewn on the floor of Santana's hotel room had been wedding dresses. The rings had been bought at a jeweler. They had found a place to marry them, clearly. It all seemed a bit too organized to be done on the fly or for fun while in a drunken state.

Rachel shifted into a gear she usually left for rehearsals, and began packing her things with an intensity that rivaled her best choreographed dances, making the most of every movement and every passing second. Her phone, resting on her bed for the moment, had gone off twice in her haste, but it didn't matter. Her eyes darted to the alarm clock, making note of the time. Rachel couldn't quite recall the exact departure time, but she had between thirty minutes and an hour to catch Santana.

Once packed and ready to go, Rachel swept up her luggage and hauled it down the hall in a sprint, yelling out in frustration and desperation as she met a set of closed elevator doors, the nearest being six floors away. Feeling impatient, Rachel pulled out her phone and opened a new text to Santana.

_'Santana please wait for me please. Please let me explain'_

The elevator door in front of her opened by the end of the message, letting her push her way inside and press the button for the lobby while the couple beside her looked at her oddly. Not that she cared; she was in her wedding dress, rushing to the airport to stop her bride from leaving before she could explain herself.

For once, Rachel felt zero appreciation for the dramatics of her situation.

As the vessel slowly made its way down toward the lobby, she opened up her agent's newest message, figuring it'd eat up some time.

_'Rachel, you need to call Luxor and tell them to pull your wedding video, they'll only do it if it's from one of you, no matter how much I threaten them with legal action. GET IT DONE AND STOP IGNORING ME.'_

The elevator door opened a second before she finished the message, leaving her with the alluring option of tracking down her wedding video, or checking out of the hotel to chase Santana. The latter won out easily, and she dashed to the counter, thankful she could tap her credit card, hand off her key, and continue on her way.

Thankfully, there were a few cabs hanging around, and she wasn't about to waste the opportunity or any more time. As smoothly as she could, she opened the rear door of a cab, shoved her luggage in, and slid in after it. "I need to get to McCarran International Airport as fast as you can legally manage, and I promise if you speed, I won't say anything, because it's an emergency!" She yelled out quickly, earning a stiff nod from the driver, who immediately took off down the street. "Thank you so much."

Rachel dug around in her bag for her wallet and pulled out the first bill she could find, and while a hundred dollars was a bit much for a short trip from The Palazzo to the airport, she wasn't about to waste time when they got there to get the proper change. If he got her there in time, it'd be a worthy tip, so she just slipped the bill into the driver's compartment, then quickly scoured her messages for the wedding video, spotting a piece of mail in her inbox from Luxor with a link to their wedding video, along with a rather nice message from the employees last night who felt her and Santana's ' _devotion to each other was just wonderful and touching_ ', thanking her for the honor of including them in their special night.

Rachel felt sick and terribly sad that she couldn't remember it. Sure, since seeing Santana's proposal, she'd gotten a few vague memories of instances from last night; irrational hate toward Michael Bublé, the song from Lady and the Tramp, hitting on Santana at the hotel bar, the Bellagio fountain, Santana looking at her all shy and full of hope, and a few smaller things, but aside from a few vague feelings about the wedding, there was nothing. Nothing.

As Rachel clicked the link to the video, she promised herself she'd never drink again, not after having lost so much because of it.

_"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."_

* * *

Santana wearily rolled her luggage into the lobby of her complex, feeling all sorts of relieved to be home, safe and sound. Sure, she could have gotten home a little earlier than she had, but navigating JFK was a shit show, and she'd take a layover in Philadelphia en route to LaGuardia over it any day. Especially since she lived a short cab ride from the damn place.

It was good to be out of Vegas. She'd had to linger around the airport there for far too long, and she could have sworn as she boarded the plane, that she heard Rachel call after her. Not that she stopped to check. Fuck that; the last thing she needed to do was pay attention to her stupid brain's mind games anymore. Rachel was probably just boarding her own flight, and probably spent the rest of the day with the other gleeks or something predictable like that, before everyone went their separate ways. Rachel was thoughtful and considerate like that. Just apparently not thoughtful and considerate enough to refrain from getting blitzed somewhere along the line last night when she wasn't looking.

As per usual, her doorman, Vaughan, was hanging out by his desk. She gave him a courteous nod as she walked him, though his abnormally large smile in return was a little confusing. She chalked it up to him seeing her ring, which she couldn't begrudge him for, and just felt relief that he unlocked the elevator for her and didn't comment. The last thing she needed was to be basically at her doorstep and collapse into an emotional heap in front of one of the nicer acquaintances in her life.

The ride up to her apartment was thankfully quick, and soon she found herself at her door, hand resting on the doorknob. Try as she might, Santana couldn't rid the immediate thought of what it'd be like to come home with Rachel for the first time as newlyweds. To have Rachel sit at the breakfast bar while she cooked them up a quick dinner, because neither of them ate plane food unless they flew first class, and even then it was kind of fifty-fifty. To recap their weekend, and leave each other sneaky kisses, and eventually just fall into a heap on her bed for a nap to recuperate from the trip and the wild night they'd had.

Santana shook those thoughts loose and unlocked her front door, letting out a quiet sigh as she entered and shut it behind her. Home at last.

She left her luggage by the door, knowing full well she wouldn't have any visitors, and made the usual trek through her kitchen-slash-dining-slash-living room area en route to her bedroom, but found her feet glued to the hardwood floor once she realized she already HAD company.

"Fuck." She breathed out, which was apparently all it took to alert the diva to her presence. Not that she'd even attempted to be quiet on the way in, but with how the diva had been sitting in front of the fireplace, legs curled beneath her as she stared off into space? Santana probably could have slipped by had she managed to restrain her rebellious mouth from announcing her presence.

Honestly, it made no fucking sense that Rachel was even there. It just didn't, because she left on a much earlier flight, and her doorman was usually really strict about letting any visitors in when the condo-owners weren't around. Yet, there Rachel was, still wearing that fucking dress, looking so unfairly goddamn beautiful, and it was just too much to bear witness to, so Santana turned on her heel and made a beeline for her liquor cabinet. It wasn't often she'd drink away her problems, but today was a day for trailblazing and new beginnings. If she wasn't allowed to come home and lay down for a good cry, she was at least owed the opportunity to make it all disappear.

Sure, she'd never been able to drink to the point of blacking out before, but right then, Santana felt up to the challenge as she took hold of an unopened bottle of Patron.

"Please don't, Santana." Rachel called out softly from somewhere behind her, and it was almost enough to pound her own fucking face against her counter top, because who was Rachel to even ask something like that? A part of her brain, a really stupid part, answered that Berry cared for her, and that being petty by getting blitzed wasn't the answer.

"You gotta let me have this, Berry. After...after everything that happened, and if you're not gonna leave me alone...just...just let me have this." Santana argued, wanting to feel angry, and she was until midway into her spiel when she turned to look at the diva. Her best friend. Her wife.

Just one look at those soft mocha eyes and all that fury left her, leaving heartache and yearning in its wake, and damn it if she wasn't torn between rushing around the breakfast bar to the woman and clinging to her, and rushing into her bedroom and barricading herself inside so she could mourn alone.

"I know it's a lot to ask of you...more than I probably should...but if you could just please sit down with me and hear me out." Rachel's request was a damn difficult one to process, because what exactly was there to tell? They woke up after their wedding night and Rachel was terrified of being married to her. Rachel left.

Sure, she was back now, and Santana wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't change the fact that she'd been soundly rejected earlier that morning. She wasn't particularly excited to hear Rachel explain why what happened between them was regrettable.

"I can't do this again." Santana admitted quietly, but her body seemed to believe otherwise, placing the bottle down on the counter and acceding to Rachel's wishes. Was it pathetic that she was whipped by her wife who wanted nothing to do with her? Because Santana was pretty sure that was pretty damn pathetic. "How are you even here?" She added, hoping to earn some time to recompose herself.

"Your flight had a layover in Philly for a little over ninety minutes. I caught a direct flight to JFK and paid my cab driver handsomely to get here as soon as possible. I got here about twenty minutes ago, and used the video of our wedding ceremony to convince Vaughan to let me in. So please don't be upset with him, he meant well, and was very excited." Rachel explained, and yeah, that all made sense, but it had Santana more or less wishing she'd also asked WHY Rachel was there. The how of it all seemed simple enough, but the urgency to confront her at her own home just didn't make any sense.

Truth be told, the mention of their wedding video did funny things to her stomach, but the physical ache in her chest more than outweighed that. She'd downloaded a copy of it to her phone, but just left it there, not feeling ready to experience that night's ceremony again. It was just way, way too soon for anything like that, and hearing Rachel just willy-nilly showed her doorman the video kind of hurt.

Sure, it helped knowing Rachel knew about the video, and had seen their ceremony, but only by letting Santana know Rachel's rejection would be more specific. Just a longer, more serrated knife to twist.

Still, she knew Rachel. The diva wouldn't give in, and as stubborn as Santana was, her best friend was at least double that. So, feeling resigned to her fate, Santana wordlessly walked through the kitchen and into the living room, grabbing her favourite throw pillow before sitting down on the rug in front of her fireplace.

Rachel settled down into the spot Santana had found her moments later, and call her a glutton for punishment, but it only took a few seconds to realize Rachel wasn't wearing her wedding band. Not that she was obsessed, or that she was looking to see if Berry was still wearing them, but it at least gave an answer as to whether Rachel wanted to be married. Though, the fact Rachel was still wearing the engagement ring threw Santana off a little, but she figured it'd be hard to find a safe place to keep something like that on short notice.

As seconds ticked by, the air around them grew more stifling than she felt comfortable with, so she made the executive decision to just get it over with before she felt suffocated by the sadness and awkwardness.

"I'll let you talk, and at the end...at the end, if I don't want to see you again, you're going to respect that. You won't come around, you won't call...you'll walk out of here, and you can send the papers, you can do whatever about what we did, but you won't come back, you won't call or text...not unless I get a hold of you first and say it's okay. That's...that's my condition." Santana spoke, doing her best to push her damn emotions down so she could speak calmly and clearly, because she didn't need to show weakness in front of Rachel, not right now. She needed to be firm, and be strong, because Santana knew she only had herself to rely on now, at least for the foreseeable future.

Funny how that whole idea to put distance between her and the gleeks, the plan she put aside to focus on Rachel, only made more sense just twenty four or so hours afterward.

Santana watched Rachel closely after speaking, wanting to get a good read on the diva; if anything, Rachel looked a little baffled and taken off guard, but past that there was just a whole lot of sadness in those eyes of hers.

"You really believe I..." Rachel started in disbelief, her voice way more soft than Santana expected, before the diva seemed to shift gears, nodding and clasping both of her hands in her lap. "I agree to your terms. If it's the only way for me to speak to you, then I agree."

It was a little unnerving how quickly Rachel had agreed, and without argument, but either Berry was really confident in her persuasiveness, or was resigned to saying her piece and knowing Santana deserved to make the call on if it was good enough. Either way, it was a little out of character for the woman to just agree to potentially lose her best friend. At least, Santana thought she still held that position in Rachel's heart, but who knows what the past twenty four hours had changed between them?

"Just like that?" She asked, really confused and unsettled, hoping for some clarity from the diva.

But the woman just gave a sad shrug and focused those big doe eyes on her. "Just like that. I may not have an organized speech ready...this whole day has been more than a little overwhelming...but I do have a number of things to get off my chest that you deserve to hear."

Santana nearly sighed in relief that Rachel's hadn't prepped some sort of 'Why Our Friendship Is More Important Than Our One Night Stand Marriage' long-winded speech, but it still kept the door open for a whole lot of jumbled tangents that the diva might wrestle with herself to connect on the fly. Which, honestly, could drag this whole painful thing out longer than necessary.

"You've always had a way of getting me off-balance Santana. Not only in what you do, but how I feel compelled to react to you. Routinely, I find myself stumbling after you, and it's not always a fun experience. It can be, but a lot of the time I just feel...well, disoriented, and am usually trying to figure out how I got to be where I was, or react how I did." Rachel started, her eyes losing a bit of focus as she searched for the right words in the middle of her spiel.

And sure, Santana knew she kept Rachel off balance, so she nodded at her best friend's words. It was fun to mess with her; Santana did it on purpose, it was a hobby of hers. Back when they lived in the loft together, she'd regularly do or say something to the woman and have Berry so out of sorts that she'd pour orange juice in her cereal. Her personal record was six straight days before she decided it'd be a little mean to keep going.

"I could list hundreds of times you've made me feel so utterly distanced from myself, but I'll stick to a few major ones to push a point. You breaking the news to me that you slept with Finn initially had me upset at you. It took some time to get that out of my head and realize that I was much better than that, and i deserved better than what Finn had done, because it was his fault. But you managed to make me forget my personal moral code for a good seventy minutes, and that was a powerfully unnerving experience." Rachel noted, and again Santana nodded, because she knew how to get people off their game. It was a survival instinct; she'd pick her shots perfectly, usually to distract people from her own failings or insecurities. It worked most of the time, because people were usually easy to read.

"And as years passed, you unfailingly kept managing to make me forget myself in words or actions, and it got to the point where I nearly...well, I was going to say 'threw you away', but I did, so perhaps 'lost you' fits better. After the Funny Girl fiasco, I realized I needed to change my approach with you. That you were a different person from the manipulative, vindictive Santana in high school...you were a good friend. So I had to stop believing that every time you threw me off balance, that what I perceived was the truth of the matter. It had nearly ruined the best friendship I'd ever had, it had nearly cost me my favourite person, and that terrified me." Rachel continued with a despondent frown, and okay, she was starting to make sense, because they'd had a conversation about this stuff years ago. Back then, Rachel had tearfully apologized, and they'd promised to work through it. She expected Rachel had, though, which confused Santana as to what Berry's point was, and no amount of compliment, as wonderful as they were, would tear her focus away from that. Stoic. She needed to stay stoic.

"The thing is, while I got better, I...well, I tended to fall into a habit of assuming the opposite. That whenever you disoriented me, what I saw and felt would be wrong. It was lazy, and certainly wasn't always correct, but was right more often than not, given how regularly you enjoyed pranking me." Rachel added with a smirk, and Santana had to fight to keep stone faced as all the wonderful memories of playfully messing with Berry flitted through her mind. "Which...well, leads us to today."

Santana nodded once more, signaling the diva to elaborate, because as far as she could tell, there wasn't a point. So Rachel was disoriented this morning and thought, what, they hadn't gotten married? That the rings they wore weren't possibly real? That the dresses on the floor were both white out of coincidence? Santana wasn't sure what Berry was trying to say.

Hell, by the long seconds of silence coming from the diva, Santana wasn't sure Rachel knew what she was trying to say either.

"By the time I'd woken up enough to get my bearings, I was regretting opening my eyes. My head hurt, and I was sleeping with...well, I eventually found out it was you, and I thought I was going to fall out of bed, I was so disoriented. It didn't matter that you were on top of me and holding me down, that's what it felt like, and I was so shocked, and even more so when I saw my ring, and it was all too much. My brain was overwhelmed, and I couldn't think straight, and the only thing that slipped through the fog was that this wasn't real. This couldn't be real." Rachel explained, even if it didn't really explain much. Still, given Rachel had drank enough to forget, it made sense for her to be shocked as hell about it all; Santana remembered Saturday evening, and how much of a shock it had been for HER when Rachel was all gung-ho. It was totally understandable to be caught off guard.

But the fear she saw in Rachel's eyes that morning wasn't an illusion. Berry had been scared, and the diva hadn't explained that away yet. In a way, the woman's spiel was way different than she'd expected, but Rachel did have a way with words, and spinning narratives and arguments toward whatever conclusion she was aiming for, no matter the tangent.

"Not sure how you could possibly think we didn't get married and...well. How can that possibly make any sense?" Santana asked, finally breaking her silence in hopes of figuring out what the hell Berry was talking about, and hopefully expediting their talk. She'd stumbled over her words a bit, not wanting to say 'making love', because she wasn't sure Rachel deserved to hear those words from her yet.

"I don't think you fully understand the effect you have on me, Santana. This morning destroyed just about all of my critical thinking abilities the moment I realized we'd slept together and gotten married. I'm not brainless, I knew both of those things actually happened the previous night, even if I couldn't remember it all at the time." Rachel stated firmly, which clarified that her best friend wasn't long-windedly making a terrible point, even if it left Santana clueless as to what point she was making. "But with all of that rattling in my head, with the new weight on my ring finger, with you greeting me with soft words and a grin...Santana, I was terrified."

Santana clenched her eyes shut and bit her lip, trying to hold back the whimper she knew would come. In the end, she was pretty sure that amongst the crackling of wood from the fireplace, it was inaudible, but still. When she felt capable of keeping herself in check again, she opened her eyes again those dastardly sad brown eyes staring right back at her, all brimming with tears and everything. It was so unfair. "You know, if you're trying to make this easy on me, you're not doing a good job." Santana spoke, her voice stained and quiet, because it just wasn't fair how easy that woman across from her could absolutely undo her with a single look. It wasn't right.

"I'm...Santana, I wasn't terrified of being married to you or having sex with you. I was terrified of none of it being REAL." Rachel practically cried out, halfway crawling a few inches closer before seeming to realize what she was doing, but it wasn't like Santana could have done anything about it. Not with Rachel's words absolutely discombobulating her mind.

"What?" She managed to mumble, because fuck if she knew what Rachel meant by that. The woman already stated she knew they'd been married and had sex. How could any of that be fake or whatever, if it'd all actually happened?

"I thought...I thought we'd gotten blitzed, and gotten married on a whim, for...for kicks. Because everything I saw that morning, everything that seemed real, was so wonderful. But I was so used to assuming everything was wrong when I get off-kilter, so I thought it had to be something else, there had to be ANOTHER reason, and...and every other reason was terrifying. I couldn't stand the idea of us hooking up on a one night stand, I couldn't stand the thought of us having a Britney Spears marriage that'd be annulled in days...none of that had me confident our friendship would survive, because how could we go back to just being best friends when I wouldn't have the heart to remove my ring?" Rachel ranted at a rapid pace, her words almost slurring together from how fast she was throwing them out there, so Santana really had to concentrate to fully take in and decipher each word.

And okay, the idea of them having a one night stand fit the whole wedding party cliché, and that made enough sense to click in Santana's head as a semi-reasonable conclusion, given Rachel's lack of memory. She wasn't fond of following in Brittany Spears' footsteps either, and was about to pipe up about all of that when the rest of Rachel's words caught up with her.

"Wait...what? Wonderful? You...you wouldn't have the heart to...what?" Santana was pretty sure she was tossing out random syllables as she processed the woman's words. Rachel liked what she woke up to? Rachel wouldn't take off her ring? Santana cast a glance at the woman's hand and saw the wedding band was definitely still missing, which was confusing as hell, given THAT statement.

It seemed her confusion was apparently permission for Rachel to scoot closer, settling down so that their knees were touching. Which felt pretty nice and all, but it only added to the confusion.

"I was terrified because I didn't know how you felt, and that I'd only get a glimpse of what that brand of happiness would have been like." Rachel confessed softly, and even if it all just clicked into place a second or so later for Santana, she really let the words sink in for a few seconds in case she came to another conclusion.

Honestly, she wanted to feel relieved. She wanted to be happy, and kiss Rachel, and hold her, and never let her go, but Santana was way too fucking angry to handle any of that at the same time.

"Are you blind?" She asked, teeth grit in frustration, just barely censoring a curse word or two out of her vocabulary for the moment. Santana knew Berry wouldn't appreciate vulgarity, and she seriously had to vent.

Rachel's eyes averted at her harsh tone, the diva's teeth immediately nibbling that lower lip of hers. "I...I've been telling you I was. I didn't notice that you said nothing poorly about the marriage, or about sleeping with me. You turned defensive the moment I challenged what happened, and I was too blindsided to recognize that, and too overwhelmed to react properly until far too late, after I'd ran away. So...so yes, I was blind."

Santana shook her head, because that wasn't what she meant, but it was good to have a little more clarity, she guessed. "No, just...are you blind? Is it not ridiculously obvious that I'm in love with you? I mean, fuck, I'd never admitted it to anyone else until last night, but I was shit at keeping it under wraps. Quinn knew. Kurt's known for years. I'm pretty sure SAM knew, and he doesn't know ANYTHING."

Rachel's stunned, wide-eyed gaze was enough to answer her question, and Santana couldn't help but toss her throw pillow across the room in frustration. "Of...of COURSE you're blind! You're always blind DRUNK any time you goad me into saying or doing something where I fucking show you how I felt. Drunk you asked me to move in with you in Bushwick. Drunk you goaded me into yelling out that yes, I wanted you. Drunk you had me taking care of your flu-ridden, heart-broken ass for three days straight, feeling like my heart would explode from all the chances I got to show you how much I fucking cared, and noticed what you liked. Drunk you had me taking care of you during your post-baby scare mourning period. Drunk you would get me to give you foot and leg massages, or sing sappy romantic karaoke with you, or have a half a million heart to hearts with you about 'our connection'. It's like all these big moments that made me fall for you more and more were all just in my imagination, because I was the only one who'd EVER remember! And I...I can't handle that anymore, Rachel! I can't...I just can't..."

Santana had tried to stay stoic through her rant, but there was just too much history she was dragging back up, too much pain, disappointment and heartache. The moment her voice cracked on Rachel's name near the end, she was swept up into a hug by the diva, and fuck if she knew she should push away, but she couldn't. Santana just couldn't, and so she buried her face in Rachel's neck to hide her tears, and to try and use that comfort to steady her emotions.

Rachel's hand sifted through her hair over and over, those delicate fingers occasionally grazing her scalp like they usually would, and it was nice, but it only reminded Santana of when they'd just lay in bed together a few minutes before she'd fallen asleep, how Rachel had played with her hair, and held her, and promised her a lifetime of tomorrows together.

"I asked you...I asked so many times if you were drunk. I just...because I just couldn't handle that, but...but I was so desperate for you to love me back." Santana cried, clutching Rachel's dress as she shook her head again at how foolish she'd been the previous night. "I must have stopped looking for reasons to stop. You wanted to marry me so bad, and...and I didn't have the heart or...or will to say no."

"This isn't your fault, Santana. Drinking...it's been my coping mechanism around you for so long, but not anymore, I promise. I promise I won't drink unless we're both sure I can handle it. I've...Santana, I've missed so much. If it means I go sober the rest of my life so we can share our memories, then I will, because I wouldn't trade a sober minute married to you for all the raspberry vodka in the world." Rachel's passionate words soothed Santana's sorrow, infusing some hope into the wreckage of her heart, that little bit of light just enough to start pulling it all back together.

Still, there were some nagging concerns, and she'd gone through too much in twenty four hours to ignore any possibilities that her fortune could turn yet again. "But...your wedding band...you're not annulling our marriage?"

Santana felt Rachel's lips press into her hair, and god if she didn't melt at the slight pressure from the cute gesture. "San, when I watched our wedding video, bits and pieces of last night came back to me. Some words, some details, some touches, a lot of emotions...and it only makes me feel terrible that I couldn't remember it all, but I want this. I always wanted this with you, and one day down the line, I want a ceremony to reaffirm our vows, where I'm sober, and can say every word without fear from either of us that I'll have forgotten."

"So...what are you saying? I need you to be really clear with me right now, mi querida, because I'm not sure I can take the dramatics you're spinning me around in right now, okay?" She asked about as nice and sweetly as she could manage, because her heart was thrumming in her chest with love and anxiety, and she just needed to know. She needed to know what they were, because Rachel was talking about being married, but the woman wasn't wearing her ring, and that meant a lot, that was a symbol of their marriage, so Santana just needed to know. Before she had a heart attack or something.

Rachel's hands gently separated Santana's face from the diva's neck, and angled her head so she was face to face with her best friend and hopefully-wife. "We're technically married, but I'd really like it if we could treat the next six months as an extended engagement period...we could renew our vows then, with our friends and family there, and ...and it would mean the world to me if I was able to slip your eternity band onto your index finger again, and if you could hold onto mine for the time being and slip it back onto my ring finger during the ceremony. I...I know it's a lot to ask, and you don't have to if..."

Santana's hand was in motion the moment Rachel stammered, knowing her wife wanted a re-do on their wedding night with all her heart. Yeah, it sucked that the most heart-warming, wonderful, dream-defying hours of her life so far only existed in her own memory and partially on video, and nothing would ever take away from how beautiful her wedding night had been. Nothing.

But she also wanted her parents to be there, and Rachel's dads, and their friends, and for it all to have been a little more prepared, even if, aside from Rachel not remembering, it had been kind of perfect going all impromptu. She wanted to share her memory of the night with Rachel, and she wanted to make more memories together, so yes, yes she would give her wife what she wanted, slipping that wedding band off that dainty little finger of hers.

It had been expensive, both rings nearly eating up half of her savings, but she had no regrets on that front. Not with both fitting Rachel so well. "So...are you going to ask me to call you my fiancée now?" She asked shyly, feeling a little excited at the possibility, because it'd been like she'd missed a whole step in the process, jumping from best friends to wives. Well, two steps, but she'd had girlfriends before, never a fiancée or a wife.

"I'll take whatever you give me, San. But...it would be quite wonderful if you did." Rachel conceded, bonking her forehead lightly against Santana's, a happy little grin on that cute diva face of hers. And hell, maybe the day had been rocky as fuck, and painful as hell, but maybe Rachel kind of deserved that smile with how it'd all been salvaged.

Now, Santana felt about a million times better than she had most of the day, but fuck if she still didn't have a whole slew of unexpressed emotions, so she gently nudged Rachel and pulled them both to their feet before leading the diva into her bedroom. Once upon a time, she'd hoped for their first entry into her bedroom together to be more passionate and with both of them in the midst of a mack session, but beggars can't be choosers.

She settled in against the pillows, a smile stretching across her face when Rachel just settled in practically on top of her, the diva's arms immediately snaking around her waist as they lay there together. It was a sort of magical twist on what used to be a common event for them both, no longer just friends, but more. It was enough to get Santana to admit her one final worry, even if it wasn't much of one, given what she knew of her wife.

"So there's one thing that might, um, trip people up about the whole fiancée thing, baby." Santana whispered as she nuzzled Rachel's temple, deciding after to plant a kiss to her cheek just because she could.

Rachel's hardly stifled giggle warmed her heart even more than it had been in the past few minutes, and if it wasn't entirely turned to goo as a means to make it whole again, she was sure it was well on its way. "What could possibly complicate our marriage more than it already is?"

Santana let her hands glide up and down Rachel's sides, a gesture that usually comforted Rachel, just in case the diva reacted poorly. It was doubtful, but Santana still couldn't help but worry, if just a little bit. "I kind of maybe took your last name, so it won't be easy to hide, and I'll have it on all my I.D. eventua..." Santana started only to find her words unnecessary once Berry's lips were crushing against hers, both of her wife's hands having bolted to the side of her face, just single-mindedly channeling that joy into her through the kiss.

It didn't last long, just barely long enough for Santana to react, as Rachel's lips kept spreading into a grin as they bumped noses. "You...you really did that for me?"

Santana just smiled up at the light of her life, hoping her wife could see just how much she fucking adored her, even if the woman was crazy and almost too dramatic for her own good. "You talked about it a couple of times over the years, about how much your last name meant to you. I wanted that for you, to keep it going, and I've got a brother to keep Lopez going, so it wasn't even a question for me."

Santana watched Rachel's pupils blow out from arousal as she spoke, and fuck if she'd probably spend the rest of her life figuring out all of the woman's quirks and kinks, because that was SO not a sexy comment, but Rachel was looking at her like a five course meal.

"Mrs Berry...I like the sound of that. Maybe I'm okay with 'wife' for now if I can call you that." Rachel practically purred as her wife trailed a finger from Santana's lip, down her neck, and into the valley of her cleavage. "And while it's far too early to talk about children, the thought of growing a family with you, of...of you pregnant with our child...it paints an alluring future."

Santana hummed with amusement at the diva's intensity, not to mention her perspective. Sure, she'd come to the conclusion she'd like to have a kid one day, for sure, and wouldn't even be opposed to carrying, but she knew it'd be far from a cakewalk. "When we're ready for it, you know I'll be on board with that. Of course, you realize you're signing up for nine months of Snixx down the road, though, right?" She asked playfully, her head angling up to plant a kiss to her wife's nose; she'd come to love how it was just so uniquely Rachel, all strong and prominent, but still feminine at the same time. Santana took advantage of the diva's blushing to add on to their conversation, figuring if they were to be married, Rachel would have to know about one of her newest goals. "Anyway, talk about pregnancy is kind of on the shelf for at least a year, but on my way to the airport I got to thinking about adopting a dog. And since we're married, I thought I'd run it by you."

Santana bit her lip in anticipation as Rachel seemed to process her words, that magnificent mouth of hers quirking to the side in thought before the woman gave a small nod. "I've never had a dog before...what breed would you be looking into?" Her wife asked, and Santana could only smile at Rachel's approval, because fuck yeah, she was kind of excited to get a dog.

"Not sure, all I know is I want its name to be Fudge." Santana admitted with a smile, which quickly turned into a pout as Rachel began cackling. "Hey, I'm serious!"

"It's...Fudge is a strong name, baby." Rachel stated with a roll of her eyes, but Santana had suspicions that Rachel was just saying so to make her feel better given how the diva was having a hard time stifling her laughter. Whatever, Fudge WAS an awesome name, and no one would convince her otherwise. "How about we figure out some places nearby to adopt from, and do a little tour someday soon to see if there's any dog out there that just oozes all the character the name 'Fudge' entails."

Santana feigned disapproval and pulled her wife back onto her chest as Rachel broke out into another giggle fit. Seriously, the name was not that funny. "Now you're just making fun of me and our future pup. Ice cold, Rachel." She remarked with a grin, giving her woman a good old fashioned squeeze as she held Rachel close.

"Oh hush, you know how I am with animals. If I can regularly treat Tina's pet turtle like a long lost nephew of mine, I'm sure I'll just adore our little bundle of Fudge." Rachel said with a laugh, and it was clear she was being poked fun of again, but Santana also knew that whichever dog they ultimately adopted, Rachel would fall in love with it within a few hours. "Anyway, our hypothetical dog's name just reminded me of how hungry I am. I've been too anxious to eat anything all day long."

Just the mention of food had Santana's stomach grumbling, which paired with the urgency of taking care of her wife had her pecking the woman's lips and gesturing toward the door. "Then why don't we have our first dinner as a married couple? I'm pretty sure I've got at least enough to make most of those vegetarian pastas you like."

It turned out that Santana's awareness of her stock of food was a little sub-par, but there had been enough for them to enjoy a nice, if slightly underwhelming penne-rigate dish. Not that either of them were complaining as they sat at the breakfast bar and ate side by side, looking out at the living room and the city skyline; hunger had a thing about making bland food taste great, and the fact that it was their first together had it feeling extra special, at least in Santana's eyes.

"You know, I could get used to this." Rachel spoke, breaking the comfortable silence of their meal, the woman smiling as her eyes slowly scanned across the mostly open concept condo. "It's not Manhattan, but Brooklyn has its own charm."

Santana's eyes might have gone a little wider than usual at Rachel's words, both in offering a reminder that they lived apart, and that moving in would definitely be a priority for them soon. She gulped back a bit of her water, taking time to collect her thoughts before making her case.

"It's pretty nice here. Lots of parks, lots of good schools, and a bunch of those weird little shops you tend to get excited exploring. The East River's a short walk away, same with BAM and a bunch of art galleries. Twenty five to thirty minute commute to the farthest Broadway stage, too, so not a huge difference from where you are out in Carnegie Hill. Sure, Central Park's not in walking distance, and I'm not saying this place is an amazing long term solution, since the second bedroom is basically my studio, but..." Santana rambled, stilling her words in the back of her throat once she realized she was spending way too long trying to soft sell to her wife.

It's just Santana kind of really loved her little condo, and her music, along with her work scoring the X-Files reboot and a few video games, had more or less paid the place off. The big city was close by when they needed to head to work or wander around exploring, but its hustle and bustle was far enough away to be able to just relax and enjoy a more toned down community-style of living. It was a big part of what made living at the old Bushwick loft so special, and Santana felt she'd captured that in her condo and its location.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is if you like where you are in Manhattan, or you want to find a place together that suits our needs, where we can start fresh, or you want a lot more time to think about this, then it's a big no, and we'll work something out, because my home is wherever you are, okay? But if you could see yourself living here with me going forward, starting our lives together here, in this kitchen, by that fireplace, maybe swapping my couch out for yours to sweeten the deal? Then...then say yes." Santana finished, taking a certain two words from Rachel's reading at their wedding ceremony, feeling that they just kind of fit the situation.

Because going forward, she'd make her home with Rachel, wherever that would be. Ultimately, Rachel was the one who tended to have a steady day job to commute to, so if Rachel couldn't handle the location, then that was that. She'd deal.

But as Rachel turned her head and captured her gaze once more, she knew this would be the first of many memories together in her home. "Yes...I love you, and I love it here, so yes." Rachel answered, her smile as bright as all the stars in the sky as far as Santana was concerned.

Rachel's answer had Santana shooting off her stool and embracing her wife, hoping to show how much she appreciated her choice, and how much she just straight up appreciated her. And as Rachel 's arms wrapped around her waist and clung there, Santana could see the oven clock out of the corner of her eyes, smiling at the sight of the time.

Twenty four hours ago, she'd walked up to Rachel at that hotel bar, thinking she'd put space between her and all of the gleeks. Santana let out a low chuckle and kissed her wife's temple, reveling in just how much could change in a single day.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being about 8k words longer than I'd planned, but I think it turned out alright. I started off with a silly story idea of Santana and Rachel getting married while drunk in Vegas, and as I outlined it, it kind of spiraled away from the silliness. It took a bunch of tweaking to feel comfortable with writing both characters drunk, given the extremely limited canon scenes with them intoxicated. I noticed that Rachel would extend or over-emphasize her words sometimes, Santana's phrasing would get a little more dramatic (especially if she was entering one of her hysterical drunk moments), and they both kind of got sloppy in their enunciation, but nothing else really stood out, so I focused on those two areas to capture their voices, and had Rachel stumble a little more over trickier words since it seemed alcohol affected her usual speech pattern a bit more than Santana. If you found it OOC or off-putting...well, I apologize, but thanks for giving it a shot! Just trying my best based on what I caught from the show.
> 
> So yeah, I mixed a bit of angst, and a bit of fluff, and blended it all together, trying to make something that felt truer to a future pezberry duo than, say early twenties brittana, like what's going on in the final season of glee. This was the last of the big standalone oneshots for pezberry that I've separated from my list of shorts, because this story wasn't very short. I hope you all enjoyed reading it more than me (I think I spent a little too long writing this and getting frustrated in editing it to enjoy it as much as I could have), and that you've all had wonderful weeks!
> 
> Thanks again!


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